


Complicated Affairs

by geniusincombatboots



Series: Guardians [3]
Category: Night at the Museum (2006 2009)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniusincombatboots/pseuds/geniusincombatboots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn and Sybil return to the world of the Tablet when they are assigned to ensure that the exhibits of The British Museum adapt properly to their new lives. But when Sybil has to choose between her heart and her loyalties to the Bureau, what will she choose in the face of familial opposition? Can she find some way to appease her duties to her job and to her heart? Or will it only ever end in pain?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Here's the next part. Told you the wait wouldn't be long. Let me know what you think. I like the way I've started it but if anyone thinks I'm rushing let me know. Any and all constructive feed back is appreciated.

Sybil leaned against the wall, her black hair tucked up under a navy blue felt hat, with the brim pulled down over her eyes. The paper cup in her hand blocked the path of the man, or rather the bloodstained, murderous thing that passed for a man. She leaned forward into the pavement, “Spare some change?”

“No, sorry,” he growled.

“Oh, come on now,” she insisted, standing in the way, “Come now,” she went on, “I would be ever so grateful,” she said in a higher voice, a whining voice, a vaguely English voice.

“I said no,” he pushed past.

Sybil’s booted foot found his ankle, tripping him over in the dark, “Oh a thousand pardons, sir, let me help you.”

He squealed at the kick she gave his ribs, looking back up like an animal in a snare. His feet kicked out at her, scrambling away from her and running in through the alley.

A small stone trinket slid easily from her pocket. Sybil held it up to her lips, “The target is running. I am in pursuit!” She shouted running after him.

There was a long period of silence on the other end before Evelyn’s voice came through the communication charm. “Track him and take him down. I am looking in on a matter of interest in Trafalgar Square.”

“Matter of interest my ass,” Sybil mumbled to herself, trying to keep the rate of her breathing even and level. The Ripper turned a corner and she did her best to keep at his heels. Through alleys and streets she chased him hurrying even as her legs began to burn from the exertion.

There was a group of people about Evelyn in the square. Sybil just saw them for a moment at the corner of her eye. Then he was gone in the crowded square. Sybil looked around terrified for the sake of her ears, which would very soon be boxed by Evelyn.

“I see you. Might as well come over. We’ll track him later,” Evelyn said into the charm.

Sybil groaned in frustration, her hand pulling out the hairpin at the back of her head and taking her hat off irritably. Her curly black hair fell over her worn grey tweed overcoat.

The walk over to the girl’s master was brief enough and her anger was ebbed by the sight of the people standing by the older agent. There was Larry Daley, Sacajawea, Theodore Roosevelt, Attila the Hun, and a young Pharaoh from the look of it. The young woman looked at the others quite confused, but she made herself smile anyhow, “Mr. Daley, how long has it been?” she asked, offering him her hand.

“I was just saying six years at least. They are actually in a rather bit of a hurry,” Evelyn said levelly, “Apparently Sir Lancelot has run off with the Tablet of Ahkmenrah.”

Sybil’s eyes rolled, “Why can’t Ahkmenrah mind his own tablet?”

Evelyn looked at her and Sybil got the feeling that she had been rather imprudent, “Sybilla Marlow, may I introduce you to President Theodore Roosevelt and Ahkmenrah, son of Merenkahre, Pharaoh of upper and lower Egypt.”

Sybil’s cheeks burned red with embarrassment, “Oh, I am so very sorry!” she dropped in a low bow, “I’m always saying the wrong thing! I’m sor-“

Ahkmenrah politely cut him off, “It’s quite alright, I suppose I ought to agree with you.”

His youth surprised her more than almost anything, and how little he looked like his brother. The only thing that surprised her more was when he took her hand gently, and pressed his lips to her knuckle. She wondered where in the world he would have even learned such a thing.

“Even if you were not right to say so, I should think to agree with you,” The young Pharaoh remarked with an easy smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“Golly,” she laughed, her face turning ever more red. She stuffed her hands deep in her coat pockets.

Evelyn turned her sharp eyes back to Larry, “Have you any idea where he might have gone?”

“N-…. Maybe…” Larry’s eye caught a sign. “Which way to the London Palladium?”

Sybil’s phone screen lit up and a map showed the path, “Here,” she passed him her phone. “A bus should be here in a minute that will drop off a block from there, I think…”

Larry nodded that she was correct and hurried along. The exhibits were slower moving that Daley did. The young man moved slowest, stopping even, bending as if in pain.

“Are you well, sir?” Sybil asked. She had decided without knowing to like him, but she was almost frustrated by the lag, though perhaps it was not his fault.

He stood up and looked at her, “Yes, but please lend me your arm to lean on?” He said, his voice a slow, gasping wheeze.

“Yes of course,” she helped him up, startled by the ashen pallor that took over his skin.

“Tell me, where is that accent from?” he asked, smiling and wincing.

“Are you feigning injury simply to make small talk with me?” she teased him lightly, laughed a little so he would know she didn’t mean offense, “I suppose all of women of Egypt are quite in envy of me.”

“I will say yes, if you pretend with me that it is true.”

She looked at him, concern registering on her face. The bus rolled into the stop and Evelyn called back to the pair. She looked up at him, “Do you mind terribly walking at a brisker pace?”

Ahkmenrah took a deep breath and sprinted the rest of the way, his kilt and robe billowing around him even as he went into the bus. Evelyn waited by the door, snatching Sybil roughly by the arm and yanked her back. Grey eyes met hazel intensely displeased by something that had happened. “Watch yourself.”

“What did I do?”

Evelyn’s look told her that was the end of that conversation. The claws released Sybil’s arm. Sybil slid into an empty seat, one row ahead of the others, as Evelyn slid into the seat next to her. Sybil slid in her headphones and turned the volume up on her iPhone. Her boots pulled up to soles down against the back of the seat in front of her.

Evelyn poked her firmly in the shoulder. She tugged the headphones out, “What?”

“The Pharaoh is speaking to you,” Evelyn said gently, her eyes straight ahead.

“Oh,” she looked over her shoulder, “Terribly sorry. What were you saying?”

“Are you well?” he asked again, with the same patience she had pretended to possess moments ago.

Sybil hesitated, looking at him, “You are quite conscientious, sir….”

“What does that mean?” The young man leaned forward to look at her.

“I should think you have more troubles in your life right now than I. And I do not think you should worry about someone you just met five minutes ago.”

His eyes darkened a little.

“I didn’t mean it like that… It’s just… I had a….” she shifted in the bus seat uncomfortably. “I was chasing a murderer and I managed to lose him. I do not like to leave things undone.”

“Nor should you,” Evelyn said terse.

Sybil gave her a sideways look before smiling gently back at the Pharaoh, “I was having a bad day. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you and I’m sorry.”

He smiled back, “Quite alright. I shouldn’t pester you with questions.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“What?

“Whatever is the matter with you?”

“I thought we were pretending nothing was the matter.”

Sybil looked carefully at Evelyn, “Lying so soon seems a bad start to a friendship.”

“Will we be friends then?”

“I think of no reason not to be.” She reached her hand over for him to shake, “Sir.”

“Ahkmenrah, please,” his hand was clammy, “I do hate the like titles. I tend not to use them anymore.”

“Why?”

The bust jolted to a stop. Evelyn patted Sybil’s lap, “turn around before your head starts to hurt."

Sybil smiled over her shoulder, “Later then.” She smiled at him again before turning around again.

The young king settled back in his seat, smiling to himself. Teddy looked at him evenly, across Larry Daley, an amused smile on his face.

The smile dropped off of Ahkmenrah’s face, “What?”

“Hm? Nothing…” Teddy looked forward, trying to contain his smile.


	2. The Mission

When the bus stopped, Sybil and Evelyn stayed by the doors in case the knight in question chose to make an escape of it, which was gradually uneventful, save for the conversing that happened through the talismans.

“Are you in your right mind?” Evelyn demanded.

“Of course I am… I think. What are you so balled out about?” Sybil leaned against the damp stonewall, pulling her felt hat back on her head.

“Are you really flirting with the Pharaoh of all ridiculous things?”

“I do not think it’s ridiculous… I mean its not like I started it. And why did no one tell me Kahmunrah had such a handsome brother? I mean, golly…”

“Don’t even think about it. He’s a mummy,” Evelyn had many skills to her repertoire, including dry banter (which more often than not bordered on actual rudeness due to a lack of correct intonation), the ability to remember inane historical detail, and skin a man with a travel razor, but she often found herself completely lacking in imagination. The fact of the matter was that while she liked Ahkmenrah well enough from what she could remember of him it struck her as quite foolish to harbor any sort of romantic notions about him. It was the sort of thing that a lesser Shakespearean play would be made of, and she for one despised “The Winter’s Tale”.

“Only during the daytime. Hypothetically nighttime would be the only time I would need him,” Sybil teased her master, but Sybil could immediately hear the disdain in Evelyn’s whole body. Sybil took out a cigarette and lit it inhaling, “Joking, Madam Agent.”

“You are not,” Evelyn said in Sybil’s ear.

“You know that I am, but if you want to believe that I am in actuality the woman you have me play then who am I to complain?”

There was a long moment of silence. Sybil knew better than to break it but all the same she felt so terribly awkward. She was forever saying the wrong things when she wasn’t playing a part, and sometimes when she was, but at least then it was useful. Fumbling for words on a mission was a way to endear ones self. Unpolished would make one earnest or at least appear to be.

“There might be use in you seducing the Pharaoh,” Evelyn went on after a moment of silence. “Let me see what the oracles think of this?”

“No that’s not what I meant,” Sybil snapped, the ashes falling from the end of her cigarette.

She had wanted something to be just hers. Even though it was nothing more than a simple flirtation, she wanted something that was hers. There was nothing in the whole world that she could have just to herself every single time she had ever gone to have someone for herself they’d found some way to make it for the benefit of the greater good.

Already, she felt as if any attraction she had bourn towards the young man corroded to the needs of this overarching political agency. They had taken her to save her from being a whore, but they only managed to make her even more of one.

The young woman stood with a start as the back stage door burst open and she pulled her hat down, hiding her eyes and dropping the spent cigarette. She slid into the shadows nervously, not wanting to be seen.

A glinting of gold in the dark of the alley caught her eye in the dark. The young Pharaoh looked around for something in the darkness, “Ms. Marlow?” he called gently. It occurred to Sybil that he looked a great deal better already, thought she still was not sure what the trouble had been in the first place. His eyes found her in the dark, and he smiled.

“Hello,” she stepped closer before leaning against the wall again.

He was beaming in pure joy, almost glowing.

“All went well then?” Sybil smiled, “Smoke?” she held the crumpled carton of cigarettes out to him.

He grasped his face in his hands and kissed her. It wasn’t passionate, or violent. He actually seemed sweet and simply celebratory.

“I hope it is alright that I did that… It’s just that I thought I was going to die until a few minutes ago.”

“And that’s the first thing you do with your new found vitality?” she asked, smiling, “My goodness, I feel special indeed, or do you find infatuation so easily from habit?”

He laughed, “I do not think anyone speaks to me like that. It isn’t rudeness, is it?”

“I don’t think so. I think and then I talk, but I don’t tend to think much about what I say,” she smiled self deprecatingly.

“I haven’t kissed anyone in a very long time.”

“Has it been thousands of years?”

He laughed, “Only about sixty now,” the young man leaned against the wall, looking at her. “I think we have to go now.”

She looked at him, and decided that if they asked her to seduce him that she would do it. She wouldn’t even question it. She never did. “Where?”

“Back to the Museum.”

“In New York?”

“Eventually, probably,” he said slowly as if he could not think of what else he was supposed to say.

“Do you not like it there?”

“I do. Very much.”

Sybil waited in silent patience, not breaking the silence until she was certain Ahkmenrah was not going to say anything else. “The night will not last forever, Ahkmenrah. If you say we must be back, we must be.”

He looked down at her again, touching her shoulder, “Yes. Come now,” his hand squeezed her shoulder gently. It was tender and he smiled before taking his hand from her shoulder and walking back through the door.

This would be easy, then. After a moment of reflection on that thought, Sybil decided that she hoped he wouldn’t fall for her. She hated what she had become.

\------

Half an hour later, the young woman waited outside, her back against the wall, she listened, but she did not want to participate. Not yet. She just wanted to think. From the snatches of broken conversation that she could put together, the New Yorkers were going to allow Ahkmenrah to stay in London with his parents. She looked across to the other side of the doorway where Evelyn waited. She poked her head into the opening to look in.

Ahkmenrah was speaking with a woman, beautiful and ageless. She held his face in his hands as if he was the most precious thing she had ever beheld.

Sybil looked across to Evelyn, “I’ve seen her before somewhere.”

“What?”

“The woman with the young Pharaoh. Where have I seen her before?”

Evelyn turned her head to look at the young woman, “You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“But you remember her?”

“Yes?”

Evelyn nodded and went into the room, bowing low. Sybil heard the buzz of talking, but could not focus on the words. She had wanted nothing more than an answer. She hated being treated constantly like a child, and a stupid one at that.

“Sybil, come here please,” Evelyn called from inside of the exhibit hall. Sybil hesitated but followed. Her face was dirty and her hair was a mess and all she could think was that she had anything to make her look more important than she did.

She bowed low, and graceful, “You Majesty,” she said, hoping the protocol was the same in Egypt. She let her face level back up but kept her eyes carefully stuck to the floor waiting to be told to do other wise.

The young Pharaoh Ahkmenrah’s language shifted into their shared, ancient language, so that neither Sybil, nor Evelyn could understand them, but the kindness of his tone caught

Evelyn off her guard. It should not have been so simple to catch him. She waited for a lull in the talk between the pair and at the Queen’s eye’s alighting on the girl with a disinterested smile.

“Your Grace will of course remember George Marlow.”

A strange look of recognition came into the Queen’s eyes, “I believe I remember the gentleman in question. He came with you to Egypt.”

“This is his daughter, Sybilla Galatea Marlow,” Evelyn continued, speaking as if Sybil was some sort of lady that should bear respect. The elder placed a gentle hand on Sybil’s shoulder.

Sybil tried not to wince at the full name. Her father had some strange inkling of being a scholar, she supposed to give her such names, mixing history and myth.

The Queen lifted the young woman’s face to look at her, “You do not much look like him.”

“No I took the look of my mother more than anything else,” Sybil made her lips smile.

“I am Shepseheret, Queen of all of Egypt,” The woman was beautiful and Sybil found herself swearing up and down that she knew the woman from somewhere, “Evelyn tells us that you will be here for a time now.”

Sybil hesitated, surprised, “I am,” she said trying not to sound her voice like a question.

The young man smiled in return, hearing the hesitation in her voice, but he touched his mother’s arm, “Pardon me a moment,” he went to the others that had come from New York.

“I am certain you both have much to speak of,” Shepseheret said politely, clearly tired of pleasantries, and Sybil bowed, not blaming her. She could imagine that someone that had seen her son as ill as he had been.

“What am I to do exactly?” Sybil asked as soon as she was certain no one would hear her.

“Ahkmenrah will not be returning to New York. As such you are to stay here and help the night guard adjust to her duties as well as aiding any exhibits that seem uneasy with this change in their circumstance,” Evelyn said as if she was listing off things from the order document.

The young woman looked over her shoulder a moment at the young man, “Is that all?”

“Officially yes,” Evelyn walked away.

Sybil nodded, leaning her shoulder against a door frame and turning to look at Sacajawea who walked to her the short distance, “We met in Washington DC briefly I believe?”

“Yes I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye when you all left.”

“As long as you say it this time,” she said and it rung with bravery.

“Are you not staying here?” she asked, “Pardon, I had heard you all planned to keep the tablet here…”

Sacajawea did not answer her directly, but rather said, “This is not our home. It is Ahkmenrah’s place to be with his family.”

“And you are all willing to give your life up for that.”

“The life we give up is that which he gave us, but perhaps it is better that way.”

The young woman studied the other, “What does it feel like to be unalive?” There wasn’t a better way to ask such a question.

The Shoshone woman smiled gently, “There is no feeling. It’s just closing your eyes and when you open them it’s hours or days later.”

Sybil looked through the door at the young Pharaoh. He embraced his mother again and she wondered what it would be like to be able to care about a parent so unconditionally, and to have a mother’s love.

She looked back at the woman, “You are selfless as any soul I have met.”

Sacajawea, when Sybil looked back to her, had fastened her eyes to Theodore Roosevelt. It was obvious that she loved the older man, which struck Sybil as odd. But then, she never really did understand these things, as well as she liked to pretend. She was good at making people want her in some strange Paleolithic sense of the word, but beyond that she had really only had minor infatuations, though of course they had all seemed more important at the time. Looking back on each of her relationships she found herself realizing that they had almost every one of them been for work; which was disconcerting, but also rather insignificant or one-sided, though it had not always been the side of her marks.

Loving someone so earnestly had never really been something that Sybil had been able to grasp fully, and young as she was, she had started to wonder if it was even something that she could have. Watching Sacajawea made Sybil wonder if there was some difference between her and the other.

The young agent pulled her had back on, “Is it a hard decision to make?”

“Yes and no. It is the right thing to do, but…” Sacajawea did not finish the thought, but left it hanging in the air, and Sybil felt that she quite understood it. “We must go now.”

Sybil nodded, smiling as politely as she could. She said goodbye to everyone that she could, trying her best to find the right words. She went with Evelyn to see them out.

“You will come back tomorrow and see the night guard and help her,” Evelyn reiterated.

“And what is it you’ll do?” Sybil asked.

“Someone has to track down the blackguard you let slide,” The senior agent pulled the collar of her thick warm coat up against the damp shill in the air. “You will have the studio to yourself.”

Sybil nodded.

“This is a test. If you do well, you will get your wage and something else perhaps,” Evelyn continued. “And if you fail I will drop you back in the arena.”

Once this threat had been enough to keep Sybil awake for days, but the frequency of its use had left Sybil without a care for the words. Evelyn pressed the key to the small rooms over a shop in Soho.

“Are you leaving directly?” Sybil asked.

“No I just want you to keep it warm,” Evelyn said, sarcasm hidden in deadpan. “There will be less money so try to find a day job.”

That was the closest to tender goodbyes that Evelyn ever got. Sybil looked back over her shoulder at the museum where the windows glinted with light. Wrapping her scarf around her face, Sybil tried not to be excited, but found herself failing.


	3. New Beginnings

Sybil had lain down to sleep as soon as the bus ferried her back to her home. She had slept through most of the day, waking at about two in the afternoon. It was so quiet in the small one roomed studio. Evelyn had beaten her back and had emptied the apartment of everything that was hers.

Alone in the flat Sybil thought about what she should do. She poured some water from the Brita filter in the fridge to heat up for oatmeal. They had never done much to make the place seem like a home, but Sybil decided that she would be here for months and that she wanted a home, not a fully functioning prison cell. The girl decided that as soon as she could she would buy real curtains for the one window, maybe get a bedframe to get her mattress up off of the floor.

She sat eating her oatmeal and looked up on her computer how long it would be until sunset. She spent the rest of the daylight setting things on the bookshelf in the corner and hung her clothes up in the closet.

The jumpsuit uniform would hang on the back of the door until she had use of it again and it made her smile to be able to leave off of it. She wondered if the promotion in rank that Evelyn had mentioned would allow her to wear normal clothes again. She kept her clothes simple to savor the entirety of the freedom over as long as she could. She wore simply a striped tee shirt and jeans and a cardigan.

It took two buses to get to The British Museum. In her purse she had packed something for lunch, her computer and the small thick leather bound book that she took her spells down in. There was a small make up bag containing her kits for spells; all of these bags were deceptively sized.

At the door of the Museum, a round figured woman that seemed rather surprised by a sudden turn of events tried to convince Sybil that she should not be there.

She extracted a small leather wallet from her purse, “Agent Sybil Marlow of the International Bureau of Supernatural Investigation and Defense. I am here to help you in anyway,” she offered her orders in the form of a computer print out. “Honestly it shouldn’t be much trouble. From what I understand the Museum was active last night and for the most part was without issue, but you never really know, right?”

The woman stared at her a moment before saying, “I’m sorry. What?” she snatched up the piece of paper in a hand sharing space with a hammer.

“Did you bring that for your protection?” Sybil asked, eying it concerned that something may have already gone wrong, “Have you had occasion to use it at all?”

“Do you know what the hell is happening?” The young woman demanded, wielding the hammer as a weapon, “Are you some sort of witch?”

“A bit, yes.”

“I’m going to have to check this…” The Guard said looking at the orders.

“That’s a bit of a problem. I mean it’s not like we have an office downtown, but I promise I’m not some sorta crazy lady that’s come in to smash up all the Ming Dynasty ceramics.”

“So you have indeed returned,” called a familiar voice.

Sybil’s head turned quickly towards the voice. She smiled at the young Pharaoh Ahkmenrah.

The Guard yanked her arm back like she was going to smash his head in.

“Stop that!” Sybil yelled, snatching the hammer from her hand, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Well I mean-“

“No,” Sybil said firmly, “May I present The Pharaoh Ahkmenrah, your newest charge here. I mean, I suppose everyone is the newest charge, but…”

Ahkmenrah bowed his head respectfully, shaking the young woman’s hand, “A pleasure.”

“I’m sorry but I’m afraid I didn’t get your name, dear,” Sybil smiled.

“Tilly…” the woman stared at them.

“Wonderful to meet you. Now, I am not actually sure of the logistics of what is happening here, but long and short, Ahkmenrah has a tablet and it makes things come to life, but I think it does other things as well.”

“Like what?” Tilly asked.

“Ahdunno, but you are now the guardian of the tablet and everyone that lives here.”

She laughed; clearly excited by the prospect, “So you’re saying I’m like The Chosen One?” she asked beaming.

“Yeah I guess I mean, there’s not like an ancient prophecy or anything but yeah,” Sybil hesitated, “There aren’t any prophecies, right?”

“Not as far as I know,” Ahkmenrah admitted, as if he wasn’t sure of anything with regards to oracles, “To be entirely honest, when I was young and still alive I had my doubts about the work of the priests.”

“Boy were you wrong,” Sybil laughed in response before turning back to Tilly, “So do you want to walk about the museum and we’ll see what things might need an eye?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Would you like to walk with us, Your Majes- I’m sorry. Ahkmenrah. I forgot you said you did not like titles.”

The three of them walked through the museums halls and Sybil did her best to learn the layout of everything, writing notes in a small notebook.

“Have you noticed anyone particularly disconcerted or confused?” Sybil asked, more to Tilly but she would accept and answer from either, “Or violent, mostly, I guess?”

“No, but there are some wild animals running around.”

“They should be mostly docile once they are over the initial shock of living inside,” Ahkmenrah said with a smile, “The animals in New York were violent for quite some time, but that was more because they had been kept locked inside more than anything. Once they were allowed to walk and mingle they were quite congenial.”

Tilly nodded her understanding, watching a giant metal frog leaping through the hallway.

“Is Tilly short for anything?” Sybil asked, writing a note to look into integrating the museum exhibits.

“No, it’s my name. When I was a teenager I didn’t like it but I think it’s all right now. Like, It’s a good name, thought I guess it should be short for something. Maybe Matilda,” Tilly started. Sybil was pleasantly surprised to find out that once she got started the girl could talk, and was friendly.

“Or Tiletrtia,” Sybil teased, “You could start a record company or something.”

“Where did you come from? I mean, your Bureau or whatever you called it, where were you when they made you come here?”

“I was here already which is why I think they wanted me for the case. That and I’ve worked with the tablet before. I mean sorta.”

“But you’re not from here,” Tilly said, as if trying to get Sybil to the point of her own curiosity.

“No, I was born in Flatbush. It’s in Brooklyn,” Sybil smiled, “New York City.”

“Larry Daley, the bloke that was here yesterday was from New York,” Tilly said.

Ahkmenrah nodded, “And he was from Brooklyn.”

“Small world,” Sybil looked at the young man levelly, “Do you think we should encourage the exhibits to play together or should everyone stay in their respective rooms?”

“As long as people aren’t fighting I see no reason to confine anyone, but I would let them slowly acclimate to the space.”

“Should we make an announcement?” Tilly started, “Like we all come into the lobby and you can answer any questions that people might have or we address any concerns.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sybil smiled, “and maybe we should set up rules or something.”

Ahkmenrah nodded, “There are a few things to be explained. For example any one on the outside of the museum at sunrise will turn to dust, so try to keep everyone inside if you can. But if anyone wants to go out they must return before sunrise.”

“Do you go out much?” Sybil asked.

“Not really,” Ahkmenrah admitted. “New York is a beautiful city, but I was without companionship so I kept my exploration to a minimum. Being lost in New York was not much of an appealing idea.”

“Yes, but you learn more about the world that way,” Sybil said conversationally, “And about yourself I guess.”

Tilly hurried ahead to let a bird-like creature out of a glass case.

“Is that how you prefer it?” Ahkmenrah asked looking intently at the young woman.

“I mean, I travel mostly with Evelyn, and I do get tired of being more or less alone. But…" Sybil hesitated, not sure how much she should say, "I don’t know.”

“No, say what you were thinking,” Ahkmenrah slowed his pace, stopping gracefully in front of Sybil to look intently at her.

“I am just used to being on my own, is all,” Sybil said, alternating her gaze to and from him.

“Really? I would think you would have no shortage of potential escorts.”

She laughed, and it tasted bitter, “I could say the same thing to you, or did Attila the Hun not like long moonlit walks around Central Park?”

Ahkmenrah laughed, “We never really left the museum unless there was trouble or the world needed saving.”

“And that was often? I know there was an incident in Washington DC a few years ago.”

“You were there for that, correct? It’s how you knew Larry. I believe Jed spoke a little of you to me upon their return.”

“I can only imagine what he said,” Sybil blushed remembering the display she had put on. She started walking again, her eyes stuck to the marble floors.

“Yes, in fact I was rather surprised. I expected something far more risqué.”

“A girl has to do what a girl has to do,” she shrugged, “I did what I had to in case things went the other way.”

“He said you tried to seduce your captor and free him. There doesn’t seem to be much to be ashamed of. Not my brother, but one of his generals... A crime lord of some sort?”

“Now you have me at a disadvantage. You know my character from a reliable source, but all I know of you came from the mouth of your brother whom I am certain is not only unreliable, but also insane,” she looked pointedly up at him.

A cloud passed over the young king’s brow at the mention of Kahmunrah, “I was told Kahmunrah laid hand to you in a most unchivalrous way.”

Sybil looked away, “I am trained to be able to handle such things.”

Ahkmenrah stopped her pace gently, his hand on her arm, “But that does not mean you should have to.”

“It’s my job,” Sybil's brow furrowed, "Dealing with hostile enemies is part of the job, I mean."

He nodded, “So the question then becomes, must I be your captor to enjoy such attentions?”

She laughed, shaking her head, “That is by far the worst pick up line I’ve heard in a while.”

“Not if you laugh. Then it is doing quite what it means to do.”

Sybil looked away from him, “Where did you learn English?”

“I was on display in the Egyptology department at Cambridge. One of the students was studying late and I woke up. I spent a few years there in the fifties. I learned English and how to interact with the modern western world. And you? Where did you go to school?”

“I didn’t go to college or anything, though I read a lot. That’s most of my education,” she hesitated, “I started working young. It was a different world then.”

“I assumed you were a modern woman,” Ahkmenrah said.

“I was born in 1919,” she smiled, “You know enough about IBSID to put the rest together I’m certain.”

He nodded his affirmation. His head turned to look over her head at someone coming down the stairs. It was his mother and an older man that Sybil could only assume was his father. With their approach, Sybil bowed, “Your Majesties.”

Shepseheret smiled, “Sybilla here is George Marlow’s daughter,” she said by way of introduction.

Merenkahre smiled as if he had just realized there were in fact pleasant people at a boring dinner party he was being forced to go to, and that these said pleasant people would willing to discuss in great detail the plot of an obscure sitcom on the BBC in the sixties that only three people left in the world remembered. “Ah yes! Your father is a great man. Does he live near, I should very much like to see him again.”

“Oh, no. I really do not see him much. He time travels so I see him, but he’s dead, I think,” Sybil said before realizing that this made such little sense that the polite smile the older man gave her was even more embarrassing than that she had said something stupid, “It’s been about a hundred years since he traveled back to Egypt,” she explained trying to salvage her first impression.

“Oh. Well, you work for the Bureau as well? What is your division?” Shepseheret asked.

“I’m still an apprentice, but my focus area is linguistics,” Sybil felt suddenly like a young man come to pick up a prom date and it occurred to her that it might only be in part because both of Ahkmenrah’s parents had held her father in such high regard.

“Fascinating,” Merenkahre said, making it clear that it was anything but and that he was hoping for something more interesting.

“I studied a few languages,” Ahkmenrah offered, “Though they are mostly ancient now. They may be of some use if you are not temporally bound. If you would like I could teach you.”

Sybil smiled at the offer, “I have been trying to learn Hun, but I’m afraid I can’t figure out the sentence structure at all,” she looked at the parents, “We’ll discuss it later, I should probably see where Tilly has gotten to. I’ll let you all alone together, I’m certain you have much catching up to do.” She bowed and hurried away in the direction that she hoped Tilly had gone. She didn’t know why this was so hard all of the sudden and why she had suddenly lost the ability to function in a feasibly normal manner. She actually felt nervous talking to Ahkmenrah, especially in front of his family.

She found Tilly after a few moments of searching, “Hey, where did you get off to?”

Tilly looked up, “I thought you might want a moment.”

“Pardon?”

“You know, because there was a hot Egyptian talking to you.”

Sybil giggled and sat next to Tilly, “I don’t think it’s like that.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“Really it’s-“

“I think I kissed a Neanderthal yesterday.”

“You what? I mean, no judgment, but how are you not certain?” Sybil asked trying to keep her voice free of all hints of mirth and amusement.

“Well I thought he was just Larry’s ugly Rastafarian twin, but now I think he may actually have been a Neanderthal. I mean small wonder, it would serve to explain his vocabulary.”

Sybil nodded, “Yeah probably.”

“He was just so nice and he listened to me and made me feel special so I broke up with my boyfriend.”

“Was he not treating you proper?”

“Not even a little. So moral of the story, sometimes you just have to hit up museum exhibits.”

“Even if they’re mummies?”

“When you think about it mummies make the most sense, don’t they? They are actual people anyways which I suppose would go a little more towards their advantage.”

“Yeah, I suppose there would be things you couldn’t do with a wax mannequin.”

“It would be the greatest test of all,” Tilly said dramatically, and Sybil knew immediately that she liked this lady guard. She liked her a lot.

\-------

Merenkahre and Shepseheret watched after a few hours as their son wandered off to look for Sybil.

“Well he’s eager to start,” Merenkahre stated, “It is rather funny, do you remember when he was small and wouldn’t learn his Greek for anything in the world?”

Shepseheret rolled her eyes, her one unregal allowance to herself, “He finds the young woman attractive. It is in fact that simple.”

“What? A commoner, I should say not.”

“It is however the case. She is a charming thing to look at, and I’m certain once she is more comfortable here, she will be charming in other ways.”

Merenkahre nodded, smiling, “She did scamper away.”

“Well you can hardly blame her. We are gods,” Shepseheret said regally before they both laughed. She slid her hand to the crook of her husband’s arm, “she seems like a nice enough girl.”

“Yes, but-“

“Promise me you will not interfere.”

“I can not promise that. What if-“

“If he asks your advice you may give it, but none of that nonsense you pulled with that Nubian Princess you married him to. What was her name?”

“Makeda,” he smiled, “They made a fine match.”

Shepseheret rolled her eyes but was careful that her husband would not see.


	4. Making New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!  
> The archive warnings are for flashback and dream sequences which are mostly one and the same, or for moments when Sybil discusses past trauma which will likely be minimal, and I will do my best not to make anything too graphic. If a chapter does have anything potentially triggering in it I will post a not with the chapter warning you. The potentially triggering part is italicized.

Everything progressed well. The majority of newly born to life exhibits seemed hesitant, but as though they would at very least try to work together. Tilly seemed to take her responsibilities well in hand and everything was almost running smoothly by the end of the first week when Sybil submitted her first weekly report. She would send these in every Friday unless something of note happened. If something of note did happen she would have to inform her superiors immediately.

The only thing that was at all worth noting was that she had begun learning Hun from Ahkmenrah, or rather allowing him to tutor her in public and was pleasantly surprised to find that she might be able to start something with him when ever she chose. It was a strange thing, but she found that she actually wanted him. He was still spoiled, but it did not affect his character as to make him an unkind person. She found their conversations coming easier and felt that she could relax in his company without feeling stupid, or as if he expected anything.

He was a pleasant boy, easy to laugh, and to smile and to ask her about her life. Sybil was careful not to offer him any real information about her life. She didn’t want him to know more than anyone else did. She hated what her life had been before, from what little she hadn’t been able to forget. The parts that lingered hung around in dreams that felt like a bruise, purple and pelt shaped, stippled.

Sometimes she didn’t sleep. She just woke up and tried in the dozing emptiness, but it was easier now that she slept in the day.

“What will you do for money?” Ahkmenrah asked.

“I dunno yet,” she admitted, “There are a few options, but not all of them are savory,” She admitted without meaning to.

The look that flashed across his face in that moment was as if she had only just thought of her as a woman for the first time. Not some fine fair foreign thing, but someone that might need protection, that could be hurt.

“I’m joking…” she said, “Like, I could be an assassin or something.”

He smiled and it looked genuine, but the seed was planted. “Or run an illegal boutique.”

“What on earth would an illegal boutique even be?” she laughed.

“I don’t know. Maybe you do not pay the sales taxes?”

Her hand went up to her heart as if ashamed such a thought would occur to him, “As a former king, I am surprised by such a recommendation.”

“I pardon you of your hypothetical crime,” he said, a regal tone to his voice, a hand raised in a gentle, magnanimous gesture as if blessing her in the benevolent light of Ra.

“Thank you,” she bowed dramatically.

The young king relaxed, sitting back on the stone bench and returning to the book in his lap. “Herodotus,” he said by way of explanation, “I have found that when one has all the time in the world, there is all the time to learn and still play.”

“Were you not as avid a student when you had a more limited time?”

“No. I wanted to do what I wanted to do, as all young men do. I did my duties and worked, but I took what pleasures I could in life.”

Sybil took the book from him gently, flipping the pages slowly, “I read a lot when I was little, but now that I’m an adult I don’t have the time.”

“You must make time,” he smiled.

“Yes of course.”

They heard Lancelot before they saw him. The clinking of his armor sounded like a cat’s bells through the corridor as he approached, “My Lady Agent! Pharaoh!” he bowed as he approached, and Sybil wondered if he or anyone else suspected them of a tryst.

Ahkmenrah winced at the formality, or perhaps at Lancelot in general, Sybil wasn’t sure, “Yes?”

“There are a few issues that either or both of you might be needed to see to, if you would not mind.”

Sybil stood gently passing the pharaoh his book and picking her purse up from the floor, “Yes of course. What is the trouble?”

The blonde knight bowed again to the young woman, which Sybil admitted she found exciting. She liked the sense that she was respected, even if it was in some archaic and outdated way, “The marbles are fighting again.”

“The tablets?”

“The ones on the wall,” Lancelot said as if the subject needed clarifying.

She looked back over her shoulder at Ahkmenrah, “Are you coming, sir?”

He nodded getting to his feet, “I was not so involved in New York.”

“Do you want to be involved?” Sybil asked.

“I think so,” Ahkmenrah folded his arm over the book. It was old and faded, and Sybil wanted to know if he had bought it when he had been at Cambridge.

She walked, staring ahead as they went. “If they are fixed to the wall, can they be freed from it, or are they stuck there?”

“Not without breaking the marble,” he said, “They will simply have to get along or they will be miserable.”

“Did it take a while to get used to it?” she asked, “To get along with everyone?”

“Not really,” he smiled, and she wondered if there was more to that statement than he had thought to say.

“Ready?” she asked, her hand on the baton that hung from her belt, as if ready to attack if she had to, though she thought it would be a shame to damage the marbles.

_x0x0x0x_

_She was screaming against the hand that covered her mouth, squeezing her face, and her wrists. She hated it, but she was unsure how to make it stop.  The men her mother brought home were always so insistent on getting what they wanted. At first it had been just a hand too high on her knee, but now it was something else that she didn’t know the word for except for the one that her mother used._

_It was just something that she had to do. The doctor said so. Her mother said so too, but she found herself unable to breathe. Billie was a small child. That was the point as she understood it. She just wanted it to stop._

_She didn’t want to feel the hand against her thighs pushing itself up against her. Her father would not stand for this. He would be so upset with her when he came home. If he came home._

Sybil sat up in her small room, her breath catching heavily in her chest, the weight of her panic squeezing the life from her. She sat up in the dim glow from the misty light of the late winter sun. Standing up, she pulled an oversized sweater over the tee shirt she had fallen asleep in. She felt too aware of the room as she took a cigarette from her purse and lit it with a snap of her fingers. The window opened under the flat of her hand. The chilled air pushed into her room.

There was a pair of people walking down the street and she wondered if they were lovers. She leaned her hip against the windowsill, looking out into the street, watching them. There were cars driving along and a man with a dog, and she wasn’t going to get anymore sleep. She dropped the cigarette into an abandoned and cold cup of coffee, and shut the window.

She sat at the small coffee table and opened her notebook to review her notes thus far, and turned on the tablet she used to post her reports and receive new orders, or updates to them. There was a message from Evelyn. Sybil's hand hesitated before opening the message.

It was brief, and even though there was nothing in the writing that would give away what it meant, Sybil understood it well enough; "Stop dawdling and do what is needed. -E"

Sybil sat back and read the message through a few times before deleting it, and looking back through the window. She felt sleazy. She knew she knew Ahkmenrah liked her, and she liked him back, but she didn't like this manipulation. She knew it would just sour anything that happened between them, and she would hurt him. For the first time since joining the Bureau, she found herself not wanting to hurt a man, and her distinct ability to do so was the reason she had been hired in the first place.


	5. The Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I would still very much appreciate feedback from anyone reading these chapters. Please and thank you.

Stretching her arms over her head, Sybil winced before leaning back over her records, “OK, so, what all have you read?”

“It’s a lot to take in at one time,” Tilly said, rubbing her forehead, “I mean, like why can’t I just get to know them all on my own?”

“Because people lie. At least you’ll be able to guess what the truth is.”

Tilly looked at Sybil as she adjusted her round-framed glasses on her nose.

“Anyhow I rather enjoy being able to learn again, don’t you?”

“I guess….” Tilly said, flipping through a second hand history book about Eastern Philosophy.

“I guess you could just flag any pages that deal with pertinent information,” Sybil allowed, trying to be rational about the whole thing. Some people simply couldn’t get back into schoolwork. She wondered how Larry Daley had managed it.

“What do you do when history doesn’t remember you as you really were, but they lie?”

Sybil opened her mouth and closed it, thinking a moment about it before shrugging, “at least you have a starting point for a conversation, I guess.”

“Have you ever worked in a museum before? You said you worked with the tablet.”

“For a night, yes. It was really my only encounter with it,” Sybil twisted her hair back in a bun, “Have you read much on Ahkmenrah?”

“A little. I read he died young and suspiciously. And that his older brother was heir but was passed over and that it’s supposed his brother Kahmonoodle was the mastermind of his demise.”

Sybil nodded, “Kahmunrah came back to life temporarily. That was my only experience with museum exhibits, or at least ones that are alive.”

The young guard watched her, “And was it wonderfully exciting?”

“Something like that, I may or may not have seduced my captor, not Kahmunrah,” Sybil elaborated.

“Who?”

She shook her head, “I have to keep some mystery.”

Tilly laughed, “That’s a skill I need to get.”

“What? Mystery? It’s an over rated skill if I may be honest with you,” Sybil said, “You are that which you are. No one should change themselves.”

“I always wanted to be one of those secretive Bond Girls. You know? With a thigh holster gun and a bazooka and a satelite.”

“Thigh holsters are highly impractical,” Sybil said opening a textbook to its index, “Unless it’s fitted properly and the gun is small, or whatever you may have in the holster.”

“Oh, yeah, right of course,” Tilly said, as if this was common knowledge, “I mean if you’re wearing a slinky dress you’d probably see the gun, right?”

“One would assume so.”

There was a soft knock at the door of the security office. Sybil looked up at Ahkmenrah and smiled.

“We’re going to start the meeting,” he said politely.

“Oh, I forgot!” Sybil took off her glasses and put them away, tucking her books in her bag, “We shouldn’t be late.”

“Ok,” Tilly slid her jacket back on and hurried out after Ahkmenrah to the lobby. It was something like a townhall meeting. They were having them at regular weekly intervals until everyone was more used to the living situation. Anyone with complaints or concerns could voice them and they would be answered, addressed or voted on.

Sybil took notes on each meeting to type a copy up for public display, and a second and rather different copy for her reports to be sent back to Evelyn.

The rules of the Museum were still being set and there was the question of whether or not there should be a system not unlike Parliament, where there would be representatives to address the issues instead of everyone attending the meetings. Sybil disagreed with the idea, but said nothing. It wasn’t her place.

The request was made by a Saxon warrior that there was need for more physical exercise, and while he understood that they could not go out into the night, would it be possible to set up something in the Lobby.

“In New York, we played Soccer once a week,” Ahkmenrah suggested, “And there was dancing as well.”

“We could arrange that, and perhaps some yoga classes for those that prefer quieter exercise, if there aren’t any complains against it,” Tilly said.

This was met all over with approval. A surprising number had be fairly willing to simply accept Tilly as their leader, which Sybil found rather encouraging. She tried to stay silent during these meetings even though she was not on bad terms with anyone in the place. It was simply that it was important that everyone sorted their issues themselves to make their home what they wanted. If there were any rabble-rousers they would have to be identified, or at least be able to identify themselves.

After the meeting Sybil began after Tilly to continue their work, but Ahkmenrah stopped her gently with a hand on her arm, “You mentioned yesterday that you do not read as much as you would like to.”

“Well, besides what I read with Tilly for her own edification,” Sybil smiled gently, “Why do you mention it?”

“I thought that perhaps you might want to…” he hesitated, “I mean to say that I would not be opposed to forming some sort of book club if you would not mind spending so much time with me.”

“No, I think that’s a marvelous idea! I’m certain a few of the other inhabitants would really enjoy it and I might be able to get books at a discount from the thrift store, or we could use to computers and do it all digitally,” Sybil said, genuinely excited by the idea. She had finished talking before she realized that was not what he had meant at all.

Ahkmenrah smiled through his disappointment, “Yes, I believe there is a program, the Guttenberg Press, if I am not mistaken that publishes books digitally that have gone out of trademark. It might be a good place to start.”

Sybil smiled back, “I’ll type up an announcement and we’ll see if there’s any interest. If there isn’t well then, I am not opposed to the idea anyhow,” she said trying to salvage the poor boy’s feelings.

“You would not mind?”

“You sound as if I rather should...” Sybil said, making her voice sound mystified by the notion, “You have only ever shown me kindness and courtesy.”

He bowed his head respectfully, “I know no other way to be.”

She looked at him a moment as if she was at a loss for words, before falteringly saying, “I should get along. Tilly will have gotten onto some social media site or other.”

He bowed again, over her hand this time, “As you wish,” he kissed the back of her fingers gently again, and she turned quickly. The color rose in her cheeks and she stole a look back over her shoulder. Rounding the corner, she stopped. Opening a second, smaller notebook, she wrote out the encounter for the separate report she was meant to prepare on her progress with the Pharaoh, and tried to make herself feel less like a fox in a chicken coupe.


	6. Great Expectations

The young woman sat next to him in an empty exhibit space. She had a tablet, open to the first chapter of Great Expectations, in her lap, “So how do you find Dickens?”

“He is rather long winded,” Ahkmenrah admitted, “Though I would be interested to see where the story goes.”

“You’ve only read the first few chapters?” she asked, smiling. She had never managed to make any sort of announcement of a reading group, but thought that if Ahkmenrah actually wanted to, then he could start one himself.

“Yes, and I have done my best to not read ahead or to any spoilers.”

“Read as far ahead as you would like. This is not the first time I am reading this.”

Ahkmenrah’s lower lip pulled into his mouth. His gaze shifted down and he smiled gently. She was beginning to recognize this look, but she was not sure what it meant or if it meant always the same thing. Though it did serve to remind her of how young he actually was. He could not in fact have been older than twenty four or twenty five.

“I do not think I liked his sister. I found her highly unsympathetic,” the young man said.

“Because of your brother?”

His gaze rose again to look at her, “I had forgotten your encounter with him.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

Ahkmenrah shrugged, “It is of little importance. Larry Daley told me he was cast into limbo, so I imagine Kahmunrah will not be troubling anyone, least of all of me.”

She looked back at the tablet, “So do you think that Pip is morally in the right for releasing the convict without knowing what he has done? Or do you think it’s irresponsible?”

“Convicted might not always mean guilt,” Ahkmenrah said, “Not when law is in the hands of humans. Man can try to judge the heart of man, but only the divine can see a soul.”

“Did you pass judgment as a man or as a god?”

“As both,” he admitted, “though I am not sure what is right and which was wrong.”

“But you were certain in life?”

“Not really, but it was important that I pretend to.”

“I thought all Kings were certain of themselves,” Sybil said, deciding that she liked this version of him far more, the one that she saw when no one else was around. He seemed at least, a kind man, and at best, he was sweet. He had slipped himself closer to her on the bench. Even as their knees touched there was nothing inproprietous about his proximity. He looked at her with a smile, but as if he thought she was an amusing trinket or a puzzle box.

 “Do you want to think I was a self assured and pampered prince that took everything I wanted and with a clenched fist?” he was teasing her, “Until I did not want it and then I put it back broken to bits?”

“Oh of course, your Majesty,” she smiled, “That is why we are here, now don’t you see?”

He looked at the book again, “I had quite forgotten,” there was something in his admitting this that made Sybil smile in spite of herself, "I would not break you, I do not think I could."

She looked at him, surprised by the statement, "Oh?"

"You seem made of hard enough stuff, Ms. Marlow," he said as if this old fashioned term was still common place.

She thought of a dozen things that she could say to him in retort to that, but it was such a nice compliment, or at least she hoped it was, that she smiled and thanked him for thinking so. She slipped her feet out of her rain boots and pulled them up onto the bench under her, quite at ease, and pretending not to know that he was watching her.

"Does it end well?" he asked suddenly.

"In it's own way, I suppose," she said not wanting to give anything away. She herself had mixed feelings about the ending as she had mixed feelings about most endings, especially happy ones. They just weren't real enough somehow.

"Well that is a ringing praise," he said, sardonically. 

"What should I do? Spoil the ending?"

"Well now I do want to know."

"You'll have to read it. That's the only way."

"I wish there was a way to know everything that happens at once. Patience is a virtue and I know I should be better about it by now but sometimes waiting is the hardest part of anything."

"Is it?" Sybil asked, absently, flipping a page on her tablet and thinking dark thoughts.

"Oh of course..." Ahkmenrah hesitated looking at her, "What troubles you?"

"Hm?" she looked up, "Nothing. The novel wasn't loading as fast as I'd thought is all." 

The smile she gave him was so sweet and full of affection that Ahkmenrah returned to her the most earnest grin she had ever seen on anyone. He was so young that it made her angry.


	7. A Decision

Sybil was startled when a few days later, he looked her square in the face and asked her directly, “Why did you let me kiss you?”

“There wasn’t much I could have done about it. I was surprised more than anything else,” she answered the cautious answer, making it sound as if she had been assuring herself over and over was the case.

“Oh,” he sounded disappointed.

“It was rather quick,” she added as a post-thought, staring down at her feet, “I do not think that was the answer you hoped for.”

“No.”

“What did you hope for? If I’m allowed to ask,” she walked slowly to block his path if he meant to walk away from her. Her face was composed into the most earnest of looks, as if she was beseeching him to answer with all of her soul.

“The exact wording escapes me but something that would lead to another kiss,” he said with an honesty that Sybil found herself regarding as admirable.

“Yes, that would make sense,” she said nervously.

Sybil had been losing sleep over these moments that she was certain would come. She hated that she would of course eventually have to do something, but the boy was like a puppy. He was warm and affectionate and eager to please. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t a warlord or a bad man of any sort. He was just a powerful man that had died young.

“I am certain you have noticed my attentions toward you,” he said, “But I must ask you before this goes further what you think. You blow both hot and cold. Sometimes I think my attentions are welcome and sometimes I think you would rather we be friends, which is not a problem, allow me to assure you. I would simply like to know if you would want anything further than that.”

She smiled, not able to hide the chuckle in her voice, wondering at the logical politeness of his words, as if he had been reading about how to properly respect people in the modern world and she wondered if he had or if the almost awkward sweetness was simply his nature, “Have you had very many lovers?”

“I…” he hesitated, “I had a girlfriend at Cambridge, and a couple… casual arrangements. In Egypt I had four wives.”

“Impressive.”

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s nothing. I just like how earnest you are about your feelings. Most people aren’t that way,” Sybil looked down at her feet as if this earnestness made her ashamed of her own indecent need to hide behind lies and as she thought about it, she realized that she did in fact hate it. She was thinking too much again.

“Well I am, and I do not want to be rude, but I am feeling as though you might be changing the topic.”

She leaned her back against a wall, deep in thought. He stood away from her a respectful distance, watching her with a gentle smile.

“Perhaps, I find you attractive,” she said, her voice heavy with hesitance.

“But…?”

“I don’t know that there’s a but. I mean beyond that I don’t know how long I’ll be here, so I would worry if either of us became very attached.”

He stepped closer to her, brushing a few strands of hair out of her eyes with the warm tips of his fingers. Sybil looked up at him as if startled by the sudden gentle touch. The back of his fingers stroked against his cheek, “What do you think?” His face was not far from hers, but was close enough that it was clear he would like her to make a decision one way or the other, to lean forward or to pull back.

She stared up at him, and let her lips part slightly. It had been such a long time since she had wanted someone this much. It wasn’t some great grand passion, but she was unused to feeling anything anymore.

The silky material of his robe slid through her fingers and she felt his breath puff out a silent laugh. She felt his breath against her lips and her cheeks and she clasped her fingers around the fabric of the robe and she pulled him gently against her. His fingers grasped her face turning it up to him and captured her lips under his. Pressing her closer against the wall with his body he pulled his lips away from hers and looked at her in the close distance of their faces, his nose stroking against hers.

The thought of offering him her body passed her mind quickly, but she decided against it. She could afford to wait, so instead she smiled and giggled and looked up at him and then down at her feet. His lips found her forehead and her cheek, then her neck, and her hand found his shoulders, “We can not…” she said gently.

“I would not have you in a hallway,” his fingers gingerly stroked her round cheeks savoring the creamy softness of her skin and the warmth of her. She swore for a moment that he would in fact be quite content to have her on the spot, but she did not say anything to encourage this thought. He was the sort that needed encouragement.

Sybil turned her face up to him transfixed, her fingers stroked at the silk of his robe again, then tugging him closer against her, encouraging him. Her hands slipped under his robe to touch the exposed skin of his torso. She liked that it was reversed for once, that she was the one more clothed and less exposed. That would not appear in her report.

Ahkmenrah waited, hovering and laughing quietly. He had taken a chance, and another chance and another. He wanted her to tell her that she wanted this and wasn’t just taking what was offered to her.

Standing up on her toes, Sybil let her kiss him, her fingers not leaving his skin. His body pressed closer to hers until a noise down the corridor startled them both apart. The Pharaoh straightened himself with quick hands as if he was afraid of being seen to be human.

She laughed at the sight and stood back up, “Are you embarrassed of me?”

“You are then mine to be embarrassed of?” he asked before realizing how the words sounded, “Not that you are embarrassing, or mine, but… English is not my first language.”

“I am certain it was far more poetic in Egyptian,” Sybil asked, laughing.

He laughed, relaxing into the sound, “But you do want to… Spend time with me?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, his square face warming over at the simple word, “Thank you,” he bowed over her hand, his lips pressing against her knuckle, then he simply held her hand in his.

“You are so proper.”

“I think I may always have been a gentleman, though the standards of this were far different in my day than this.”

“Don’t I know it? Even from my time to this one, there is a great difference.”

His hand gently guided hers to the crook of his arm, walking her. She folded her other hand with it, charmed by accident by the gesture.

“I thought you were a modern woman.”

“To present company, yes, but compared to Tilly, no. I was born almost a hundred years ago, but I have not lived through all of that time. Sometimes you can jump forward and backwards. It’s part magic and part science.

“You speak as though I do not understand time travel,” he said, mirthfully.

“I forgot that you knew my father,” she said, looking at their feet.

“He was a tutor of mine when I was very young. He taught me history and languages, and to teach me to trust your Bureau.”

“Then I have him to thank for you,” her fingers stroked his forearm tenderly.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the gentle contact, his body reacting to the woman. He liked her, and he admired that she could so easily let herself over to the role of being a lover. It was a sort of confidence that he admired.

“Sybil do you want to forestall consummation?”

It was all she could do not to laugh, “I think I understand your question, but… why do you ask this? I am quite willing to go off with you right now should you wish.”

“Because,” Ahkmenrah paused, “I would like to wait, if you can accept that.”

There had been times when Ahkmenrah had been less than sure of himself. His first wife had made it clear to him that he was less than satisfactory. There were several women since that had said he was far more than satisfactory, but even though he was sometimes concerned of it.

“I would not think to make you do anything you would not want to do.”

“I thank you then,” he smiled, glad that she might like him for himself.

She pressed a kiss to his lips, her fingers pulling him down to her by the back of his neck. His fingers caught her face, pulling her closer to him. 


	8. Sweet Simplicity and Earnest Distrust

There were nights were spent together in privacy as much as they could. The young couple would disappear into empty rooms and talk and laugh. Sybil was surprised to find herself at ease with him and to find that he could very easily make her forget what she had been hired to do. He never asked too much of her and was always gentle, which she could see as being eventually maddening.

She pressed close to him one night and sat astride him, and his arms slid around her eagerly, pulling her close against him. He undid the buttons at the top her blouse, slowly as if he meant to give her the choice of stopping him.

Sybil took his crown from his head, setting it aside on the floor, before running her fingertips over the short stubble of hair at the sides of his head. He had let the top grow out some, as was now the fashion. It was strange to see the juxtaposition of old and new. Her hands tilted his head back to her and she kissed him again, sweet, eager kisses.

His mouth left hers and found her throat. He never bit her, only soft and gentle caresses. He kissed more and more down from her throat into the opening of her blouse, against her breastbone. His fingers brushed against the top of the lacey cup of her bra before he stopped.

The texture surprised him. He peeled back the blouse further to look at it, “Oh.”

“What?” she asked confused.

“It is very nice,” a fingertip tracing the shape of the garment. He could feel her skin prickling at the sensation of his touch. A small mewl left her lips making him grin up at her, “We should stop.”

“Are you teasing me?” she asked.

His silence answered her. She smiled, kissing him gently, but removing his hand from her breast and buttoning her blouse back shut.

“Better?”

He had blushed, the color setting high on his cheeks, “Yes.”

Sybil shifted back from him a little, stroking his cheek, standing back up. He hesitated, but then rose to his feet, breathing deeply to himself. She watched him quietly.

“Are you making a study of me now, Madame?”

“Perhaps I am. Someone ought to do it.”

“Why is that?” he asked picking up his crown, “Do you intend to build a monument to me?”

“Are there any left?”

“Likely not. It was sometimes common practice to take apart a pharaoh’s temples once he was dead unless there was a mutual understanding and affection between a predecessor and successor, but there was little enough of that between my brother and I so I imagine that is the reason there is little left of me,” he paused, “My reign was also rather short, so as you can understand why it is that I am considered unimportant in the great scheme of things.”

“You are very important!” Sybil exclaimed, “And very pretty!”

“Very kind of you to say,” he smiled, reaching the short distance to take her hand in his, “What do you want to do now?”

She thought a moment, “I could read to you.”

“That would be very nice! I would like to find out what lays in wait for Pip. I am certain that Mrs. Havisham is not giving him all of this money to marry Estella. She’s a dreadful cow.”

Sybil laughed, releasing his hand to get her tablet from her purse. Ahkmenrah resettled on the floor and waited for her to sit. His hand stroked her knee a moment before he lay his head in her lap.

“Comfortable?” she asked.

He murmured his affirmation, “Quite. You may resume your reading.”

“Give me a sec to find my place,” she smiled, tracing her fingers over his short hair.

She read for a while, and he never moved or asked her to stop, but she hesitated at the sight of his father in the door. At her hesitance, Ahkmenrah opened his eyes. He sat up quickly, “Father.”

Sybil stood and bowed, “I should go.”

Merenkahre held a hand up to stop her, “No I am interrupting something?” his eyes shifted over his son, “Am I right?”

Ahkmenrah picked his crown up from the floor, “She was reading to me, one of the great writers of this land.”

“Truly?” Merenkahre turned his eyes back to the woman, “Are you greatly educated?”

“Mostly self taught to be honest, sir. My family wasn’t wealthy, and I did not attend any university, but I read a lot when I was young. I mentioned to Ahkmenrah that I did not read as much as I would like and he’s helping me to find time.”

Merenkahre made a small sound that Sybil couldn’t quite categorize as positive or negative. It was as if he meant to sound approving but didn’t believe her enough. It made it worse because she wasn’t sure he should believe her.

Parents never liked her.

The three stood there a moment in silence before Merenkahre broke the silence, “If you could excuse us, I have some things to discus with my son.”

“Oh, yes of course! I’ll get on out of your hair!” Sybil said, picking her purse up and slipping her tablet into it, “I’ll see you later, Ahkmenrah,” she threw her hand up in a wave as she went out through a door to find Tilly.

Ahkmenrah smiled, raising a hand in return to her.

Merenkahre looked over his shoulder to be sure the woman was gone before slipping back into their native language, “You have been spending a lot of time with Sybilla Marlow of late.”

“Yes, she really is quite a wonderful young woman.”

The elder Pharaoh nodded, “But is she quite appropriate?”

“Pardon?” a shadow fell over Ahkmenrah’s brow.

“Your mother and I are concerned. You might want to take some time to think on this and you might think that we might be a bit harsh, but we are not, I promise you-“

“Father,” Ahkmenrah said impatiently.

“Agents of IBSID do not typically make the best partners. Just ask your brother.”

“I do not understand,” then understanding crossed Ahkmenrah’s mind, “You had not heard, and I should have told you. Kahmunrah tried to take over the world and was cast into the abyss,” retrospectively he supposed they could have been nicer to Kahmunrah. After death, Ahkmenrah had given rather little consideration to his elder brother, “he actually may have tried to do harm to Sybil.”

“I know of this. It is the reason I bring it up at all.”

“Then I was right and I do not understand.”

Merenkahre hesitated, “Your brother had a relationship with the elder female agent, Evelyn Dresler.”

Ahkmenrah hesitated, not sure how to answer this statement.

“You didn’t know,” His father’s face softened, “I thought you might remember it.”

The boy king shook his head at him, “but that could just be Evelyn. One agent does not a rule make,” he said laughing a little, but hesitating a little internally. The shadow of doubt was small but present.

“Perhaps you are right. I hope you are. She seems like a very nice young woman,” Merenkahre said with a tone that betrayed only that this might not be true in the slightest. Merenkahre distrusted Sybilla Marlow. Not because of anything she had in truth done, or because of anything that her father had done, but rather the way that a noble father simply mistrusts a poor woman seeking companionship in his heir. He had forgotten once again that they were not only poor but also held captive within the walls of the Museum.

Sybil listened at the door until she knew enough to be irritated. She had left half way through the conversation, but she knew now that Ahkmenrah would in fact defend her to his parents if it were needed, but that bond would have to be strengthened and maintained.

Her arms shifted her tablet back and forth between them as she walked, her purse hitting against her hip as she walked, keeping rhythm. She had an appointment with Sir Lancelot to finish his nose. It had been damaged by fire at some point though he was loth to explain the incident to her. Ahkmenrah had smiled and said only that it had been the night they had met and that it had been a spectacle.

She pondered that. He was almost discreet, but he would sometimes let too much slip at a time, though she decided that was a sign of his youth more than anything else.

She started at Shepseheret walking out from around the corner. Sybil’s head bowed quickly, “Excuse me, your majesty, I should have been paying attention.”

Ahkmenrah’s mother smiled at her kindly, “It is easy to get lost in ones thoughts here. I think that is one of the purposes of this place, if I am not mistaken.”

Sybil grinned, “I don’t know that I’m allowed to say that you are wrong, am I? It would be to correct a god, which is generally frowned upon. Either way I agree with you.”

“Where is it you are going?” Shepseheret asked, moving to walk alongside the young woman.

“Medieval Europe. I am to meet with Lancelot, then with the Guard Tilly. Where were you going?”

“I was looking for my husband and son, but I think they will be well enough on their own for a time.”

“I just left them. Your husband seemed to have something of importance to discuss, but I’m not sure. I was not privy to it, I’m afraid.”

Shepseheret looked over Sybil, “Do you truly find us so intimidating?”

Sybil’s cheeks turned pink, “I am simply not sure what to say.”

“Because I am Queen of all Egypt, or because my son has taken you as his lover?”

Sybil stammered, the way any young person might, “We have not done anything, but read together and talk.”

“And if you had it would not be my business. He is not a child, and neither are you.”

Sybil smiled awkwardly, wondering how Shepseheret could have such open minded ideas and not have them shared by her husband, “You raised him well. He’s more considerate than most people.”

Shepseheret did not ask what that meant and Sybil got the impression that she might know as well as any woman, “You mean more than his brother.”

“Kahmunrah is not your son? Was not, I mean.”

Shepseheret shook her head, “One of my husbands slaves. She bore him his first son and he married her.”

Sybil opened her mouth a moment, “Was that common?”

“Yes, rather,” Shepseheret smiled at the woman, no hint of remorse, “But I was his Queen. We were buried together and of all of his wives I was loved the best, as was my son.”

“Is there anything that I may bring you? Books or any such?”

Shepseheret looked thought full for a while, “I would like something on which I may play music. I know many of our instruments are not used anymore.”

“Strings or woodwind?”

“Strings are preferential.”

“I can see if I can bring a guitar. Have Tilly show you one on the computer.”

“I will do,” Shepseheret smiled. They had come to the lobby, “I will leave you to your work, Sybilla.”

“Call me Billie. I never liked my name much, if truth be told.”

Shepseheret smiled, “Billie then,” the queen took Sybil’s hand and pressed it gently.

Sybil smiled at the affection and turned to go. Lancelot’s Nose would be a good name for a band, she decided as she went. The knight was polite but vain and Sybil did her best to rest the wax without hurting herself or him.

“I think it might be about perfect, but if you disagree I can try again tomorrow,” Sybil passed him a small pocket mirror.

“It is fine enough,” he agreed, turning his head, though he had said this many times over now.

“I think so, too,” Sybil said, “does it hurt?”

“No, but I can feel it,” he held the mirror back to her.

“Do you feel your armor? If it’s heavy I can bring other clothes for you,” she packed her things back up.

“No it would be quite unright for a knight of Camelot to be without his armor. It is our honor and our rights as men of the King!”

“Oh,” Sybil said, “The uniforms they give us are probably supposed to be like that too, but they’re awful instead.”

“I was unaware you had one.”

“Yes well… I would prefer to keep it that way,” She stood, putting her bag back on her shoulder.

“Where is it you go now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you go to seek the Pharaoh’s company?”

The back of Sybil’s neck prickled, and she wasn’t’ sure why, “What makes you ask such a thing?”

Lancelot’s armor clinked as he shrugged. The gesture was the only thing she’d ever seen to support the Norman, and therefore French, roots to his story. She had read somewhere that shrugging did not become common in England until the reign of Queen Elizabeth I when her cousin Mary Stuart had brought the gesture from the French court where she was raised.

“Is there gossip?” Sybil was intrigued by the idea, “If there is you are honor bound to tell me.”

“Not very much, for not many pay attention. While you are known and he is known, not a soul much cares, but those that do say he had taken you for his companion.”

“We are talking,” Sybil said, “That is how it is said now. It is nothing serious and nothing has been done. Thought I would thank you not to add any of that to the gossip.”

“You have my word,” Lancelot bowed a fist clenched over his heart, “and I pray you will assure the Pharaoh that he may place his trust in me as well. I was heartily mistaken when I stole from him, and I do hope he will find a way to forgive me my foolhardy misunderstanding.”

She did her best not to laugh, “I will tell him so,” she bobbed and went to find him. She was meant to find Tilly, but she didn’t want to. She had time that she could do what she wanted now, and she wanted to see Ahkmenrah again.

It was almost empowering that Lancelot thought she held sway with a man of power, if such Ahkmenrah even had power. She probably would not ever do anything with power, if she had it, but she had always liked the idea of it.

x0x0x0x

In the privacy of their chambers, Shepseheret removed her crown and then her wig, her fingers running over the short stubble of her head. She reminded herself to ask Billie to bring her something with which she could properly shave her head, "You really should stop being so rude with regards the girl."

"It is beneath his dignity," Merenkahre, leaned back in his sarcophagus, removing the large heavy headpiece from his head, "And I can not be the only one noticing that Ahkmen is involved with his imaginary friend."

Shepseheret studied him carefully, "I do not understand."

"He does not remember her."

"No, and I was starting to wondering if you did, either," the Queen sat on the edge of her own sarcophagus, "He liked her when they were children and he likes her now. There are certainly worse people he could be with, I am certain you will agree."

"I had hoped that we would be done with these damn agents after we were dead," Merenkahre said in a low groan, "I would not be surprised if George had brought her just in case of this."

"That's more foresight than I'm certain anyone would be capable of. Please, please do not interfere," she begged her husband, "Please. She is a nice girl and our son has a chance at being happy."

Merenkahre smiled, "I could never go against your will, my love." He reached up to stroke her cheek.

Shepseheret leaned into the touch, "And anyway, I doubt his attention will linger on her long. She is a distraction, at best."


	9. Time Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slight NSFW in the italics, and some hypothetically bad writing as well. Egads!

_Sybil ran into his arms the warmest of smiles on her rounded face. The thick black curls of her hair flew back from her face as she ran eagerly to him. Her arms slid around him and her face beaming up at him was lovely and eager. His face went into the crook of her neck, breathing her scent in._

_She kissed him, her hands holding his face gently. Her kiss felt like the sun. His hands gripped her tightly against him, tenderly holding her, asking her for nothing but to be there. She would offer him more and he could take it or not._

_He could feel the wind against his face and he thought that he might be outside. He was home, in his palace, the cooling air of evening rolling across the river through the reeds to them._

_He was pressing her against a feather bed, limbs tangling and eager. The warmth of her breath pressed against his ear, whimpering, needing. Her dress opened under his hands and her warm tanned body lay offered._

_He looked back up at Sybil’s face. Her bright eyes followed his movements but met his gaze now. She curled and writhed like one of the cobras in the temple. He leaned his mouth back against her skin and she arched back up against him._

Ahkmenrah sat up with a start, knocking his head against the lid of his sarcophagus. He lay back, groaning a little and rubbing his forehead. Being irritable would not do. He pushed open the sarcophagus and slid his crown on to his head. His mother sat up in her own sarcophagus, yawning. He helped her out of her casket. She waved him off after accepting his help, “Thank you, Ahkmen,” she said softly using her nickname for him.

She helped her older husband up from his sarcophagus and took his arm. The pharaoh pressed a hand to his son’s shoulder, “It has been sometime since we have had time together as a family.”

Ahkmenrah thought on it and it had been in fact only a week, if that, “Yes father.”

Merenkahre smiled, his spare hand finding Ahkmenrah’s cheek. He patted his son’s cheek.

x0x0x0x

 

Sybil sat by Tilly, “I’m thinking of buying Ahkmenrah’s mother a guitar.”

“Why?”

“She asked for a musical instrument and she prefers strings. I can’t get her a harp, can I?”

“Guess not. But it’s a bit weird isn’t it? Buying a gift for your new boyfriend’s mother.”

“I don’t know maybe. Is it?”

“I think maybe it is, but then your job is to get the exhibits things they need.”

“It wouldn’t be a fancy one. I’d have to buy it second hand, unless there’s a music section here. There’s one in the Met.”

Tilly looked up as if she had just thought of something, “There might be a harp collection. I mean a small one, but I’ll look into it.”

Sybil smiled nodding, “Yes, thank you.”

“Why is this so important? I mean, Ahkmenrah fancies you worthy of his unending affections. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Usually, yes, but his father is not in my corner. At least I do not think he is. I’m not sure.”

“So you do like him?”

Sybil’s mouth quirked in a genuine smile. These were becoming more common, “Yes. Rather more than I had thought I would, honestly.”

Tilly’s smile was as always infectious, “He seems like the kind of boy that totally like holds your chair out for you and opens doors but then behind closed doors, he continues to show you respect.”

Sybil laughed, bending over in her chair to rest against her legs. Her giggling at the truth of it gave Tilly hope for their friendship.

The young guard leaned back in her seat comfortable in their friendship, “So tell me, where is the young Pharaoh?”

“He’s with his parents I imagine. His father thinks they do not spend the time together that they should, and I’m inclined to agree,” Sybil slowed, “Do you see your family much?”

Tilly’s face struggled to smile, “My dad ran off when I was little and my mum and I don’t get along so well. She blames me a little for him running off, but she’s just…”

“I’m sorry,” Sybil said in earnest. She understood what that was like, though she wouldn’t say it. She couldn’t bring that up to her or anyone. The story she would tell Ahkmenrah when he would no longer be held off was a piece of literature in the works. She still wasn’t sure how to avoid the topic of her mother’s crimes. There would be moments when it would be clear that something was wrong with her, but she could wait to cross that bridge when she came to it.

The young women sat together chattering giddily after that, talking about the new cashier at Tilly’s favorite café, and how manly he was to look at. The pair made plans to see each other in the “real world” as well as that museum.


	10. Consumation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This chapter contains NSFW content.

Her head would have lolled to a side if she didn’t prop it up with the palm of her hand. She was just tired enough to make her work irritating. Her funds had trickled to a new low and she found herself a day job as a waitress. The pay was decent, but the shifts left her tired and angry at everyone.

Sybilla nodded again, listing out the complaints between the peasants of the dark ages and the issues of a couple of Jacobites. The agent nodded slowly, trying to find middle ground, though in truth they seemed to want basically the same thing. She had to try to find a way to say that without angering them further.

The peasants thought in truth that this was heaven and couldn’t be convinced otherwise, while the Jacobites rebels being Scottish were mostly content from what she could tell to be contrary. She wondered if this was because they were made by the hand of a brit and as such were simply in possession of every stereotype possible, they certainly had the ruddy cheeks.

She promised to review their issues before further mediating the issues. Glancing though her papers carefully. The peasants wanted to live in their spaces and wanted houses and a legal assembly, which they already had, and farm land, which they could not have. The Jacobites wanted a Stuart king on the throne, a legal and democratic assembly, and to not have any direct dealings with the Protestant government, but were willing to accept more meat based snacks in the breakroom.

x0x0x0x

Sybil collapsed on the sofa in the security office, her face in the pillows.

Tilly glanced up from her book, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s work?”

Sybil let out a low unintelligent groan that was smothered by the pillow over her face.

As someone that legally did not exist, Sybil found herself quite often working as a waitress in greasy spoons. Her mother had gotten her a job at their cousin’s drug store when she was younger and it was easier working in a restaurant, or would be, if she hadn’t already been working in the museum at nights.

It was maybe five shifts a week but she was already getting tired.

“You can take some nights off if you need. I know this doesn’t pay you yet,” Tilly rubbed the young woman’s shoulder.

The dark head rolled on the pillow, “I could say the same to you, couldn’t I? Do you get nights off ever?”

“I can call in, but I don’t know that I could do that now.”

“Yeah, I imagine your coworkers would lose their shit if they ever saw this,” Sybil rolled on to her back, “Do you want to take some time off, I’ll be here if you want to go out with friends or something one night.”

The soft face of the night guard looked tired suddenly for a fraction of a moment. She’d been working here for years and she had probably not had many nights off. In a flash Sybil knew that Tilly had when she had first started working here brought friends to visit in the booth outside, and her boyfriend would sit with her and they would watch Netflix on their computers, and Sybil knew that he had been cheating on Tilly, though it didn’t surprise her. She didn't know why she knew this, but she did. Sometimes she just knew things about people, without being told.

Sybil quickly sat up as the door opened, a smile on her face, “Hey darling,” she smiled up at the pharaoh. He dropped into the sofa next to her, and slid an arm around her waist. The other hand caught her face and turned it to his so he could kiss her, tender and enthusiastic. She smiled as he withdrew and turned to Tilly, “Good evening, madam.”

Tilly smiled, “I should tottle along to my rounds,” she gestured a vague salute of sorts, closing the door behind her.

“Why does she always leave?” Ahkmenrah asked, removing his crown.

“I think maybe she just assumes we need constant privacy, and this is one of the few places that your father won’t come.”

Ahkmenrah’s thumb stroked her cheek, “You don’t have anything to fear from him.”

“I fear no one. I know he doesn’t like me is all. In his defense, I have been awkward around your family.”

He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, kissing her gently, “How was work.”

She shifted her body to curl up against him, trying to find a comfortable position. “Can you take your collar off?” she asked gently.

“With help,” he smiled.

It was a more complicated garment than Sybil expected, but he felt more organic with it off. She nestled closer to him, feeling the warmth from his lean body as his robe slipped open.

“I’m tired.” It wasn’t something she was proud of. She wanted to seem strong to him, but she found that she felt comfortable enough with him to relax.

“I wish I could help,” he said quietly, stroking her back with the tips of his fingers.

She murmured something comforting, before laying back down on the couch, pulling him down with her. It was a tight fit, them both on the sofa, but she wrapped her arms so firmly around him that neither noticed. Her mouth found his eagerly and he didn’t hesitate in reciprocating. It was becoming easier and easier for him to relax into the physical side of their affair. He was not a novice by any means, but he found that he wanted the simple monogamy of it for the first time.

Hands wandered over skin, and the itchy wool of Sybil’s skirt pressed Ahkmenrah’s hands like sandpaper or the tongue of a cat and her knitted stockings under made Ahkmenrah think of a period romantic drama. The sensation of his hand against the soft, bared skin of a thigh caught them both and he hesitated a moment, looking back at her, waiting for her permission.

Her fingers curled against his cheeks, stroking his skin, bidding him closer to her.

“Are you certain?” he asked in a low voice.

She looked up at him, her strong brow furrowing in a moment of confusion, “You don’t want to.” Her thighs smoothed slowly back and forth against his sides.

“No, I do,” he murmured, closer to her, his hands stroking over her thighs again slowly.

It wasn’t how he had imagined it was all, though in truth he wasn’t sure how else it could be. There weren’t any real beds in this place so the small sofa was the closest they had available unless they went to her place, but he couldn’t think of a smooth way to say any of this. What was the cool way to ask a woman to let you remove yourself from between her thighs to run across town so that you could press yourself back between her thighs in a setting that was more to your personal tastes. He hadn’t ever been to her apartment anyway. He’d never been anywhere outside of the museum with her, except for the first time they’d met.

Her creamy olive toned skin flushed slightly, under his gaze and touch. He sat up a little helping her take her shoes off gently before rising to lock the door. His hand shook a little and he fought to control his body. He looked at his hand for a moment, thoughtfully.

She pulled her skirt off and unbuttoned her blouse, while his back was turned, and she watched him.

He turned slowly to look at her, and caught sight of her undressing quickly, “Slower, please,” he smiled, walking back to her. She grinned, slipping the buttons loose, and her blouse off. She continued undressing slowly as he crossed the room to her. His hands seemed to move of their own accord, reaching to feel the warmth of her skin, and wondered if his skin would feel as warm to her. He cradled her in his arms and sat back on the couch, pulling her close against him, looking over her carefully, not kissing her, but watching her for every change.

She stood up in front of him, she leaned forward over him, kissing him gently, pulling her panties down. The pharaoh reached out to touch her thighs again, stroking over her skin, and smiling a little as it goosebumped. His hands guided her forward, pulling her against him gently.

She smiled against his lips, her arms slipping back around his neck. Her fingers pushed his robe off, slinking over his chest down to his belt. She pulled back, “How do you undo this?”

He leaned forward and untied the belt, unlacing it and pushing it away between them. Pushing her gently, he shifted her away to slip the kilt off. He moved almost awkwardly, not sure how he should act.

Sybil smiled up at him, and moved to make room for him, “Turn off the light?”

He ran a hand over his hair, and did as she told him, mentally mapping the room so he could find his way back to her.

The soft yelp told him when he had sat on her by accident and he leapt back, “Sorry.”

But she was giggling and it was alright. He arms found the sides of his body pulling him back against her. In the dark, he felt over her body, looking for all of her. His fingers found her face and he pushed her dark curly hair out of her eyes, tracing the shape of her face, and smiled as he mapped her features.

When he kissed her he felt like he had solved a treasure hunt. She smiled against his lips and his tongue, before opening her mouth to him. The last moments leading up to the first time were always thrilling. He hoped ardently that it would always feel this way.

Shifting blindly, Sybil’s thighs parted. Ahkmenrah could feel her socks again and smiled, pulling back from the kiss. His nose rubbed against hers. He held on to her face still and he paused when her hands touched his, guiding them down over her body. The sharp poke of a nipple caught his hand and he felt his body stir again. Her fingers left his hands there, watching the shape of his head in the dark lower to kiss her breastbone.

Her hips moved against his hintingly and he moved a hand down, tracing over her body to touch her between the thighs. She was smooth and slick and it felt as easy as if they had done this a million times before. She supposed they had, just not with each other.

She tried to muffle a small mewl against his lips, her hips moving slowly against his fingers, easing her sex against his touch. Her fingers pulled his head back against hers. The soft smacking sound of their lips comforted her somehow, resolving what little nervousness she felt.

His hand left her sex and she looked down between them to watch the dim shadow of him, expecting him to adjust himself into her, but he didn’t. Ahkmenrah reached for one of her hands, and gasped himself with her hand. His forehead rested against hers. He wanted her to do it. He wanted her to decide if she was ready. It was a nice gesture.

Sybil stroked him for a moment, assessing him, letting him harden in her hand. He made a small grunting sound by her ear, as if trying to keep his composure was becoming too much for him. It thrilled her. She slowed her touch and pulled his lips back against hers as she guided him into her.

The grunt was closer to a laugh, or the sound a nerd made while attempting to know martial arts. She grinned up as his lips left hers to gasp. Then he was quiet again and still to let her adjust herself to him.

Her slow shifting against him made him smile. “Alright?” he asked, his hands finding her hips.

“Yes,” she whispered quietly, and realized how much attention they were both paying to each little thing.

His movements were slow and dedicated, as if he was being careful not to hurt her.

Sybil pulled his hips tighter against her, moving against him more roughly, wanting him to know that she wasn’t made of glass. She wasn’t going to break into pieces under him. He grunted a little, surprised by her. She pushed up against him, pressing him to sit against the sofa back. Her fingers curled against the back of the couch, moving against him.

He stared at the shadow of her, focusing hard enough to see her face in the dark room. He wasn’t used to this. His hands clamped back against her hips, slowing her, not noticing at first the slow, low groans he was letting out. He didn’t at all mind this, but he wanted to savor it.

“What?” she asked, slowing to a stop. She sat, straddling him, “What’s the matter?”

He could hear her almost laughing, that flirtatious giggle and he faltered, “I… you do not need to hurry.”

Sybil stroked her lips against his jaw, “You want to go slow?”

“If you go about it like that, I do not think I will last long,” he admitted, quickly, glad of the dark. He didn’t want her to see the embarrassment on his face, though he was sure she could hear it in his voice.

She turned his face to kiss her in the darkness. She bobbed against him, slower. She could see his face now, in the strange blurry night vision way that you see shapes that look like monsters when you’re a kid. His eyes closed, and his head rolled back against the couch for support. His mouth fell open wordlessly, but she can see where the noises he would make are trapped. His normally smooth face is contorted in sheer ecstasy and Sybil realized how much she actually liked him, and the sharp pang of it filled her heart.

Her body curved against him as she rode him and she let herself enjoy it for the sake of enjoying it. She knew that when she writes her report she will be required to mention this, but she will leave these details that she’s so carefully composited out. They’re for her.

Every few moments she stopped moving and kissed him again, trying to prolong this moment. His hands stroked against her back, holding her against him and in a smooth movement, her rolled her onto her back again. His hand slid between them to rub at the nub at the front of her sex. She wondered in a hazy after thought, if he knew what it’s called or if he only knew that it feels good when it’s touched.

She opened her eyes to see him looking at her, a small smile on his lips. He was proud of himself for knowing this. He stayed still inside of her, watching as her mouth opens, straining to keep quiet as she quivered inside and he felt them both drawing nearer. Nails dug against his shoulder, pleading him on.

The soft whimper that finally escapes her both satisfied and disappointed him. The tremors against his member tell him what it meant and he wished they could be somewhere else where she would not feel the need to stifle herself. Yet… he has made her feel this, and he would lie to say there wasn't something exhilarating in the risk of being caught.

She giggled, deep in her throat and pulled him back down to kiss her again. He moved again and the pressure built up inside of him subsided quickly.

Ahkmenrah fell against her, gasping and gripping tightly at her. When he stilled, Sybil let out another breathy chuckle, and pressed a kiss to his lips, a long, holding him there, kiss. Her thighs held him against her when he moved to pull out.

“No, stay,” she crooned to him gently, “Just for a little longer. I want to remember it.”

He stroked her hair back again, “You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?”

Her smile broke the dark with mostly even, mostly white teeth, “Of course.”

The young Pharaoh kissed her again and again, quick, pecking, smacking kisses, grateful kisses.

“We’ll do it again, won’t we?” she asked, and there was something almost desperate in her voice that made him pause. She winced, “That sounded… I don’t want to be some stupid girl that you’ve been spending time with because you want to wet your beak, y’know?”

He pondered her words, “Did you think that was what I was doing?”

“No,” she admitted, “But I never do.”

He kissed her again, “I like you very much.”

It was a semi-assurance and Sybil realized she had said too much. It scared her. She only said too much on accident when she cared enough to be nervous. She sat up and started dressing, not sure what else she should say except, “Good.”

Ahkmenrah watched her shape in the dark and wondered who had hurt her so badly, and remembered telling her that he thought she was made of something hard. He stood slowly and went to her in the darkness. She was by the door, and he reached gently to shield her eyes, "Careful," he whispered, moving to turn the light on.

She flinched a little against the light, but she smiled, "That would make it easier to dress," she said with a sense of self deprication.

"I wanted to see you," Ahkmenrah said gently, smoothing his hand over her hair.

"Well, I'm sure I look a mess," she laughed, turning into his arms.

"You look beautiful," he vowed, wrapping his robe around her tenderly, "as you always do."

Sybil's hazel eyes rolled at him, "Were you always such a romantic?" Her fingers moved slowly over his face.

He laughed, and leaned his forehead against hers, "I don't know, perhaps you just bring it out in me." He breathed in the warm smell of her, and wrapped her back in his arms, savoring the feeling of her body, and never wanting to let her go.

 


	11. Parental Concern

But he did have to let her go eventually, and they did have to get dressed.

Watching him dress was mostly the same as watching anyone dress. It ripped the illusion away of him being some sort of fairy tale prince, and she knew that try as she might she still looked as lost and confused as she still felt sometimes.

He hesitated, fully dressed, not sure what else to say to her, if he should say anything else, or why suddenly things were strange. Nothing had changed, but he found himself staring at Sybil who was staring into space. She had said she had to work on something and had taken out her tablet, but she was staring off into the space beyond him.

Who was she? After all, he knew little enough about her, but as she was staring, he saw some strange childlike quality about her, as if she was used to being left like this, or worse, and it made some sick feeling settle over him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, sitting back next to her, with what he hoped was a respectful space between them.

“Yes, sorry. I was just thinking,” she smiled, back to herself, then him.

“What about?”

Sybil looked for a moment as if she would tell him, but then she thought better of it, and smiled at him, “Nothing to worry you about.”

Ahkmenrah returned the smile and leaned closer to kiss her again. She sat still, accepting the moment, but there was something stiff about her. He lifted a hand to her cheek, to hold her there against him a moment longer. He rested his forehead against hers for another moment and it was nice.

“I like you,” he whispered, “I am not going to hurt you.”

The statement startled her, but she did her best not to show it, “Thank you.”

He smiled, “I have to go. It’s almost dawn.”

“Ok,” she started doing her buttons up the rest of the way.

Ahkmenrah paused her hands a moment and moved aside one side of the blouse to stroke his fingers over the cupped shape of her bra, approvingly.

“You have to go,” she reminded him with a laugh.

He sighed, and rose from the couch, “You are correct.”

Standing, Sybil pulled her skirt up over her hips, buttoning the waist closed. The glinting of his crown as it moved caught her eye and she turned to him as he rested it over his head.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“No one will suspect a thing,” she teased, standing up on her toes to kiss him.

His hands smoothed over her cheeks, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. “I do not care what anyone thinks.”

She was surprised by the candor in his voice, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Get some sleep before work,” he said, and when his hands left her face, she could still feel the warmth from his skin against her temples.

He was right. She lay back down on the sofa, pulling a blanket over her body to get a few hours sleep before her shift at the diner. She tried to but she found she couldn’t sleep or stop herself from grinning.

X0x0x0

Merenkahre paced by the sarcophaguses, back and forth as his wife watched him passively.

“He’s probably in the building so he will be here, and if he isn’t, the Guard with see to it that he’s brought back.

“What an assurance,” the Pharaoh snapped back, “She is little more than a fool.”

“Calm down,” Shepseheret sat back in her sarcophagus, ready for her son to come back and end this stupid conversation. Merenkahre had been like this when Ahkmenrah was a child, and even as a young adult, but now? They were dead and immortal, what harm could befall him, “He’s probably with Sybilla and if that’s the case, then he’s perfectly safe, isn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t say that either.”

She rolled her eyes, rubbing her hand over her shaved hand, aggravated. There was no talking to him when he got like this. She loved her husband, but she didn’t love the way he got sometimes.

It didn’t help that when Ahkmenrah did come back that he was flushed and his clothes, while properly worn, had clearly been put on in a hurry.

“Close call, huh?” he said, smiling his way to his sarcophagus, climbing into it.

His parents stared at him, surprised by the suddenness or his return and the informality of his speech. Surprised wasn’t the word for it, but it was somewhere close.

“Where have you been?” Merenkahre demanded.

Shepseheret cut off her son before he could start, “It is too late to talk about this now and unimportant. Ahkmenrah do not worry your father again. Husband, let him keep his secrets, and get to bed.”

Merenkahre opened his mouth to protest, but stopped short with his wife’s scornful look.

He grumbled something incoherent before climbing into his sarcophagus, sliding the lid over, grumpily. Ahkmenrah glanced over the lid at his mother, somewhat apologetically. She didn’t know what to say or why he should even feel that he had something to apologize for at all. She pulled her lid shut over herself, blocking out the light.

X0x0x0x

_Her son’s tearful screaming echoed through the chambers, even as she tried to muffle his crying against her shoulder. Rubbing his back, she tried to make him stop._

_“I want Sybie!” he sobbed as she rocked him._

_“I know, I know.”_

_His tiny fists smacked against her as if that would get him what he wanted._

_“My lady, Pharaoh is here. With the agents,” her serving woman said gently._

_Shepseheret passed the boy to his governess, irritably. His screaming only increased as she left._

_Her husband looked more irritated than she felt, which she saw as an injustice. She had the right. She had been dealing with this, while he was off doing whatever he wanted._

_“Is there anything that can be done?” he asked._

_“He wants the girl back. It’s as simple as that.”_

_Merenkahre rolled his eyes, “It was a few weeks. He can not be that attached to her!”_

_“Well he is,” she stated flatly, turning to George Marlow, “Can’t you simply bring Sybilla back? She will be safe here.”_

_“I can not do that.”_

_“Why ever not?” Merenkahre demanded, “If it is ordered of you, you shall do it!”_

_George looked at Pharaoh more directly than anyone had ever dared, “I have been loyal to you in everything you have ever asked, but if he found her here once, he will again. I will not risk my daughter for anything. Would you risk your son to ease my daughters lonliness?”_

_“And she is safer where she is?” Shepseheret asked, raising a brow, “Safer than she would be with a flock of guards around her?”_

_“She has them now,” George said simply._

_The cry stopped for a moment and the small prince walked slowly from his mother’s bedroom into view, watching the large man that had fathered his friend, “George,” he said politely through a sniffling nose._

_“Your majesty,” George bowed, “How are we this evening?”_

_“Quite unwell. When is Sybie coming home?”_

_George took a deep breath, “Why don’t you go back to sleep?”_

_The crying started up again almost immediately and George felt the special sense of revulsion saved for spoiled children. The brat prince did not know suffering, and compared to most people, he never would._

_“Amenet!” Shepseheret called, “Take him, please!”_

_“I can not bring her back, but with your permission I can make him believe she was an imaginary friend and nothing more.”_

_“Then we can all sleep,” Merenkahre sighed, relieved._

_Shepseheret stared at her husband, “You think this is a good idea then?”_

_The Pharaoh faltered, “I meant simply that… Ahkmenrah is clearly upset. If there is something that we could do something to help him, we should.”_

_She turned her head to look over her shoulder in the direction of her son, weighing anxiously the options._

_“Your grace?” George asked, hesitantly._

_He sniffled and mumbled against his governess’s side._

_“Do it,” she looked back at George, "but only if you can promise it will not have ill effect on him."_

_“I so swear.”_

_In her dream she doesn’t believe him anymore that she did when it happened._

X0x0x0x

Sybilla strained against his embrace, with no actual effort, laughing to herself as she pulled half heartedly, “No!” she giggled at the lips that found her neck. His arms, wrapped in gold, pulled her back into his lap, holding her against his chest, breathing the smell on her hair.

Across the room, Shepseheret nudged her husband’s arm, pulling him back to the conversation they were meant to be having with the guard Tilly, though in his defense, she was really doing most of the talking.

It was more the fact that Merenkahre was unable or willing to simply accept their son’s infatuation. He had died a virile young man, and had been denied nothing, except as far as she knew, the ability to choose his own wives. Shepseheret wasn’t certain of that, having died before her son, and the topic had never come up, but from what she had seen, he had not been overly happy in his marriages.

She wondered now if it was some sort of fairy tale that the pair having been childhood friends, and having forgotten each other had become lovers. That thought, while sweet never lasted long. There was something there, but she couldn’t put her finger on it, nor could her husband. Merenkahre however took greater umbridge at their relations than Shepseheret, though for the wrong reasons that lingered.

Merenkahre had been in the habit of collecting wives, though Shepseheret wondered if Ahkmenrah would have done the same had he lived longer. There was some part of the situation that she felt was hypocritical on her husband's side. He hadn't been one to only persue relationships with noble women, and there was something that unsettled her about Merenkahre's gaze. Something would have to be done.

Sybil pulled loose of Ahkmenrah’s arms, and stood, turning back to face him, laughing, but with her hands out in front of her as if to stop his approach, while inviting it. She backed a little as he assured her he would stop and let her resume her work. He swore it even, his hands spread to her.

The young agent hesitated and in that moment, he snatched her back in his arms and kissed her. Sybil squealed with laughter, struggling half-heartedly again, reminding him of her work. He nodded his understanding, and resting his forehead against hers.

It warmed her heart just slightly more than it turned her stomach, though she couldn’t say why. She nudged her husband again.


	12. Incompetent Blackmail

Sybil had left her notes and files locked in a case in the security office. Tilly would likely never open the case to look into what she was working on, so it would be safe there. Without her permission a smile crossed her lips as she walked, looking for her lover.

Footsteps behind her went unnoticed at first, until that nagging sense that they should have turned off somewhere peaked her curiosity. As she turned, Sybil was less that surprised to find Merenkahre pacing after her. She bowed, “Your Majesty.”

Unlike his wife and son, he had never extended her the courtesy of using simply his name, and she had never in her life presumed to use it. “My son is quite fond of you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she agreed simply, trying to figure out what his move was here. He wasn’t as smart as his wife, so he would be direct with what he wanted, unless Kahmunrah’s rambling had been genetic, which Sybil hoped it wasn't.

“And you are fond of him?” He was standing too close to her.

“I am, yes," Sybil was acutely aware of the baton she wore on her hip

“Why?” he asked, taking another step toward her.

“I do not understand…” she said taking another step back. There were only so many steps she had until she would be against a wall. She didn't like feeling trapped.

“Why are you fond of him?”

She let her mouth fall open, confusion curling her brow, “He’s kind and…" she faltered, "If I may ask, why are you fond of your wife? Everyone is fond of someone...”

“I think it might be better if you stopped pretending this has any possibility of a happy ending,” he said with an arrogance that to him probably sounded like he was being kind, “Unless you intend to marry him and come visit your husband in his tomb every night.”

She said nothing.

“Or before he finds out anything about you.”

“Your Majesty-“

“Did you think we never knew what your agency does? How they use their ingénues, or why they hire you? How many men have they given you over to?” Merenkahre stepped closer to her, reaching out a hand.

Sybil flinched back reflexively, "Your Majesty, could you please give me some space? I don't feel very comfortable."

He took a lock of her hair in his hand, and studied it, "How much?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, frozen in her disgusted repulsion.

“You are a whore. How much? What price do they ask for you? Information? Leverage?” he tossed the handful of hair over her shoulder, and reached out again.

Her eyes turned cold,  and she started to step away, “You shouldn’t speak to me like that,” she said raising her chin slightly.

He shoved her back against a wall, his hand holding her roughly in place, “Do not be coy. I cannot stand coyness in a woman. Evelyn was the same, always reporting back everything she saw. That is your purpose as well.”

Sybil tried to keep her face impassive. He wasn’t as stupid as she had thought, but he wasn’t smart enough for subtlety. He knew things and she wondered for a moment what Evelyn had done.

“I am here to oversee the transition of life-“

“There is always a lie. What price does information have to your employers?” the Pharaoh asked, his fingers touching her cheek, “Now as I was asking, if I tell you the secrets of an empire, what would you give me?”

She pushed him back away from her. He thought he was being clever, luring her in, trying to prove his theory, or at least she hoped that was it, “Do not touch me again. Walk away now and I won’t tell your son that you just tried to buy his lover.”

“Who do you think he would believe?”

Sybil fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Leave him, or he will hear from me the whole sordid tale of your existence,” Merenkahre said, “You have the respect of the people here, and it would be a shame to waste that,” he thought he had won, “Do it now.”

She listened to his footfalls leave her and wondered what his problem was. Running through the options in her head she decided it had to be some sort of insane obsession with the family unit. It was unusual to have a royal family buried together, especially Pharaohs. It was strange.

Maybe there was a way to turn this. There had to be. She needed to think, but first she needed a cigarette and she needed to get her heart rate back down to beneath terrified.

x0x0x

Sybil looked at the floor as she approached Ahkmenrah. It was almost possible to time how quickly he would move to embrace her. He was young and eager and their romance was fresh. She fought the urge to return his affection and made it obvious how hard that was for her.

Ahkmenrah’s lips were warm and sweet and in the solitude of that vacated exhibit room he abandoned the book he had been reading and embraced her with all the energy of a man certain he would not be denied her affections. He was pulling at her as if he thought her hesitation a momentary delay, something women did sometimes, building anticipation or something.

Pulling at her eagerly, he covered her face with kisses, even as she tired to speak. They were gentle kisses, and he would never force her, but she would surely melt in his arms soon. But she didn’t. She kept pressing back against him and he stopped short, afraid that he might he hurting her in some deep psychological way that he didn’t understand.

“This has just been one big mistake, Ahkmenrah,” she said suddenly, not moving from where he had pressed her under him on the chilly wooden floor between two large empty glass display cases

He stared at her, not sure what to say to that. It was a game of some sort, surely. He waited for her to go on, to say anything else.

“Your Majesty?” she asked, her brow contorted by some sort of anguish.

“This is a… I do not understand.”

“We shouldn’t have let this get so out of hand,” she went on, still not moving. “I’m to blame, entirely, but it’s best if we just… stop now before we get anymore involved.”

He stared at her again, leaning back down to kiss her. Sybil turned her face away from him; her eyes squeezed shut. For the first time her words hit their mark. He released her roughly and stood up, pacing.

“Ahkmenrah-“

“Maybe you are right,” Ahkmenrah said with a passive aggressive tone.

Her stomach dropped, but not because of his words it was his tone more than anything. She had wanted to believe that he was better than that. Nothing told you as much about a man as how he took rejection. “Ahkmen-“

“You will address me as ‘Your Majesty’,” he said, cold, “And you will bow to me, as any servant would.” He punctuated his tantrum with the voice of a spoiled child who had never heard the word “no” in his life.

She looked to the ground, her thick hair hiding her face.

The look that crossed what he could see of her her face hurt him, but that hurt faded and it was rage now instead, “You dare to cut me out so harshly? Without any explanation but that flimsy…” he couldn’t find the words.

“I just-“

“You no longer matter. You are not my concern,” he snapped, “You will give me reports on the Museum and offer me council, but it you approach me beyond that I will have you thrown out, and you will regret it."

She moved closer to him, looking back up again, her eyes pleading for understanding, “Please I d-“

Ahkmenrah snatched her roughly by the arm, “You are nothing to me.”

He studied her face, trying to find whatever it was that he had found so charming only moments before, but there was nothing but hatred now. He released her roughly causing her to stagger. He walked quickly from her where she sank to the floor. He hesitated a moment in the corridor, hearing her let out a small whimpering breath. It was the sound of contained tears, but he ignored the noise and moved on, his shoulders squared.

Sybil stood, blank faced and took a small notepad from her pocket, and wrote out a quick memo for her report, her pen quivering slightly.

Careful to avoid sight, Sybil went to sit on a bench where she knew she could hear music and she forced herself to cry, gulping ugly sounds that contorted her face, and left her eyes red and dry and her nose wet.

X0x0x

Shepseheret walked from the hall of music, her ears pricked at the sound of uncontrollable sobbing. She went around the corner following the sound to Sybil.

The girl had been so lost in her sobbing that she hadn’t heard anyone approach her to sit close next to her. The hand on her shoulder startled her. Shepseheret apologized, “Whatever troubles you, child?”

“Nothing,” Sybil stood quickly, bowing and wiping her eyes on a handkerchief from her pocket, she kept her eyes trained to the floor, “Nothing to trouble you with, Your Majesty.”

“I thought we were past such formality.”

Sybil’s eyes stayed on the floor.

“Has something happened with my son?”

She didn’t answer.

“You had a disagreement?”

Sybil shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“I am certain it can be dealt with, but you must keep a level head,” the queen stood, "You are stronger than this."

Sybil shook her head, “It’s quite over. You and your husband can rest assured I will not interfere again.”

“Interfere in what?” Shepseheret asked, mortified suddenly by her husband's stupidity.

“Whatever Merenkahre is so worried about,” Sybil snapped, looking at Shepseheret.

Shepseheret thought for a long moment, “What did he say?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know. He’s disliked me from the first. Now you have what you wanted. Your little boy won’t be bothering with me anymore,” Sybil started to go.

“Did Merenkahre tell you to leave our son?”

Sybil stared at the queen’s face as if realizing she had made a terrible mistake, “I should go.”

Her hand snatched Sybil’s arm like a claw, “You let yourself be bullied so easily?”

“He said…” Sybil hesitated, “They make us do things sometimes that we don’t want to do. He said he would tell…”

Shepseheret stared at the girl, “And for that you give up?”

“He’s right though,” Sybil yanked her arm away, her thick brows furrowing irritably, “I was fooling myself.” She studied the queen’s face, as if she couldn’t understand why it should matter to her, “You agree, right? That I’m not good enough.”

Shepseheret had a fuzzy memory of Sybilla crying as a child about a bad man, a doctor some sort or other. It hadn’t been her fault that she had been broken so young. Merenkahre remembered this too, maybe. She took a hold of the girl again and dragged her back down the hall. Sybil was still a young girl. She was older than Shepseheret had been when she had married, but that meant little. There was a scared, childish look in her eyes.

Sybil dug her heels in to the ground once they passed through the door, the two Pharaohs spoke with grim faces, though she knew there was a sense of comfort between them. Merenkahre’s hand on his son’s gilded shoulder was an assurance that it wasn’t his fault that she had left him. She was a common woman. What else could be done of it, but to accept her choice?

“Merenkahre,” Shepseheret called, dragging the girl behind her, “I have heard a rather distressing rumor.”

“Oh?” The father’s hand fell from Ahkmenrah’s shoulder and he moved with a forced grace to stand between his son and his wife, “What would that be.”

“That Ahkmenrah and his lover had a falling out.”

“It is no rumor, I fear,” Merenkahre looked directly at Sybil, “It can happen to anyone. Sometimes things simply run their course.”

Sybil’s eyes turned to the ground.

“That said, I’m certain we can all move on with our works,” it was a dismissal, "but thank you for visiting, Ms. Marlow."

Shepseheret reached back for Sybil again as she bowed to take her leave. If she had not stopped her, Sybil would have listened at the door.

“Tell me that you had nothing to do with it,” she snapped at her husband in a low voice.

“Your Majesties,” Sybil said in a quiet voice, “I should be going.” But Shepseheret’s hand didn’t leave her arm, keeping her in place.

Sybil looked up nervously at Ahkmenrah and saw his practiced look of dispassion and disinterest. She measured the benefits of taking a step forward, or smirking, but decided against it.

Merenkahre said nothing.

“Tell me you did not tell her to break off with our son,” she said again.

“Is that what she told you?” Merenkahre asked.

“She didn’t have to,” Shepseheret said, irritably, “Does it really bother you so much that he might take comfort from someone other than you? At least I hope that is your only reason.”

“Father?” Ahkmenrah’s voice was confused.

“The girl is unsuitable,” he said as if Sybil was not there at all, “She is without honor or virtue. She is lowborn and common.”

“That’s not my fault!” Sybil said, speaking up for herself finally, though quietly.

“No, but things are the way they are for a reason,” Merenkahre said coldly, “A whore is a pleasant enough thing but only because they leave when their betters are through with them.”

“Father,” Ahkmenrah’s voice was harder now, angry, “Who I choose as my companion is not your concern. And you will not speak to her like that.”

“I speak only the truth. The wretch is without morals of any kind,” The old man’s eyes turned back on her, “She does not even bother to deny it. Tell us how many men have known warmth in your bed and tell us how many of them paid you for it.”

She couldn’t think of an explanation for it. There was no good answer. There was a tolerable answer, which was simply, “I don’t do that anymore.”

There was a cloud that passed over Ahkmenrah’s brow at this, but he said nothing in her defense.

Merenkahre, smug in his righteousness opened his mouth, and began a tirade about understanding the attraction to such a woman, but Sybil cut him off, trying to control her rage.

“When I was very young, there was a man that came to our house. My mother would let him come into my room. She never asked questions, but she pocketed his money. We were poor and there were four other children to feed. When I left home, I…” she hesitated, “You’ve never been hungry, not like that anyhow. You’ve never been left to die on the street. I did things I didn’t want to, but I had to. Survival isn’t a pretty thing,” she said falling quiet again, her face turning to the floor. She had said too much, and she hadn’t been eloquent about it, “Merenkahre’s right, there’s a proper order to things. Excuse me.”

Sybil turned before she could be stopped and hurried away, all but running.

Shepseheret looked at her son, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Go after her.”

The young king stared after her, but didn’t move. “It is rather a lot to process.”

“You will cast her out for her past, and ignore your own?” she demanded, her desire to hide her rage failing her, “How many women did you keep?” she asked her husband, “You both expected women to fall into this world purely for your own use, but shame them for that thinking.”

“I didn’t know-“ Ahkmenrah started.

“Does it change anything in her?”

“You do not pretend to like her?” Merenkahre sounded betrayed by this change.

“I do not pretend it is my place to ruin something out of spite and jealousy,” she snapped at her husband, “Ahkmenrah, if you cared for her yesterday when you were using her, have the decency to care for her now, or to at least speak to her.

Ahkmenrah hesitated.

“Then you do not deserve her affections,” The Queen turned away from them both, disgusted. Her husband walked slowly after her, expecting to make amends for this, “I would not follow me, if I were you.”


	13. Dreams That Make No Sense

Sybil lit a cigarette and pulled her worn coat closer around her against the cold. She had dug it out of a bargain bin in a second hand shop. The lining was torn and she had done her best to stitch it back together and to better insulate it with worn out sweaters, but she hadn’t had much luck at it. The cold here was too damp.

She pondered the decision of full disclosure and found that she could have done fifty million other things instead of what she did. It was pointless for her to dwell, but there was nothing else that she could do. Her mission had been to capture him and ensnare him and maybe it was fine. Maybe it wasn’t. Would they just send her back to do it over? She’d heard of that happening, and it ripped into her heart to think of it, as much as it had to see Ahkmenrah this way.

She admittedly liked taking the riskiest possible options. They told her more and she had in fact learned rather a lot from what she had seen of the royal family. He would probably come running soon enough, but the illusion was fractured. It was easy to see the best in people when things went well, but now Ahkmenrah was a real flawed person now and she could see the layers of veneer that hid his spoiled nature chipping away, and she realized how little she really knew him.

There was that feeling that inspired her acting. The feeling of self-hatred was so pure that you felt nothing else anymore. It was the only honest thing left in her. Maybe this was what she deserved. Walking off the roof wouldn’t be so terrible. She looked over the ledge, and pondered suicide not for the first time. By now she knew she wouldn’t do it. It was like a parent that promised something so many times you knew by the time you were twelve it would never happen.

Sybil hated the bouts of depression, even though they were briefer than most peoples. She felt almost certain hers had to be more intense to make up for their brevity.

With a long cancerous drag on her cigarette, Sybil considered quitting again as the door to the roof creaked open with a scraping sound. She didn’t look over her shoulder to see who was there.

“I think I may owe you an apology,” Ahkmenrah said in a low voice behind her.

Sybil did her best to stare ahead out over the skyline and not look back at him.

Hesitation cut his voice even as he tried to sound as if he thought he was being the bigger person, “You could have told me what my father had said to you. I would have protected you.”

“I didn’t think you would take my side against your father,” she took another drag on her cigarette, “You did look like you would too, when you heard what I was.”

“You can’t blame me being surprised,” he stated.

“No,” she said heavily, chewing her lip, and remembered that he had known that there was something to that effect in her past, and had in fact expected it. 

“May I sit with you?” he asked.

Sybil looked at him for the first time. Ahkmenrah was wrapped in a thick tartan blanket from the security office hovering in the middle distance between her and the door.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” she said, her cigarette pulling back up to her lips. She ashed her cigarette over the ledge of the roof and, waited until she felt the warmth from his body next to her.

“You need a better coat,” he said gently, his fingers taking the cigarette from her and taking a drag on it.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know,” he said, his voice muffled by the cloud of bluish smoke that left his lips.

She accepted the small roll of paper and tobacco from him, “I should have told you but I wasn’t sure you would… It isn’t something I like talking about.”

“Do you intend to cheat on me?” he asked.

“No,” she said, “But I can’t promise I won’t be put in certain situations where I have to do things.”

He studied her face, reaching a hand out to brush her hair out of her eyes, and he watched as her eyes slid closed, relaxing into his touch as if it were the only thing that could calm her. He leaned closer to her, “I think that we should be loyal to each other as we can be when we are together.”

“When we aren’t? When I have to leave?”

“We can figure that out when it happens,” he looked at her, “I do care about you.” It struck him as odd that he had to prove it to her, when she was the one that had left him in the first place, “I told you not to fear him.”

She looked at him, not sure what to say or do, or if she should tell him that his father had tried to solicit her. His fingers against her cheek were warm. She leaned into the touch, smiling a little, “I know.”

“Your past is your past as long as it doesn’t affect us now, but you should still feel like you can come to me when something bothers you, Billie.”

She leaned closer to him, “I know.”

He didn’t pull away when she kissed him, but it bothered him that she didn’t seem to want to talk about this beyond agreeing and resorting to physical contact. When she pulled back she smiled up at him.

“But I do think that your past affects us,” he admitted, “We have to talk about it eventually. Not right now, but at some point we’re going to have to talk about what happened.”

“I don’t see how the details matter.”

“They do to me.”

“It’s getting early,” She flicked the cigarette over the ledge and righted herself, “We can talk tomorrow,” she took his hand and walked with him back inside. Inside she pulled him into an embrace and kissed him gently.

xoxox

Sybil typed passively, updating her superiors, namely Evelyn with the occurrence of the night.

“The Pharaoh Ahkmenrah, while in general a workable ally, shows childish behavior when not getting his way on something, almost resorting in physical violence. At this time further observation towards that end are needed.

“Further observation is also required of his parents, due to their disagreement on the terms of his relationship with the field operative. While they both seem to find their son’s relationship with an agent unnerving, they clearly have a different way of handling it and dislike the arrangement for different reasons.

“They do not discuss Merenkahre’s other children from what I can tell, and speak as though Ahkmenrah is their only child, when past dealings tell us they have at least one, namely Kahmunrah.”

Sybil paused, not sure that any of her words were getting her thoughts across properly. She lit another cigarette and inhaled, thinking. There were things she saw that were more implied than anything else. That was the problem.

“The most important thing to Merenkahre is keeping his family unit together the way that he wants it. Any threat to that unit must be destroyed. However, he lacks the long term thought process to really affect threat. Shepseheret might be more of an actual threat, but she seems to rely more heavily on diplomacy than anything else, and between the two at least sees Ahkmenrah as an adult capable of making his own choices.

"Merenkahre, it would seem however, has the potential to be led astray as well, but this too needs further observation, as comments and apparent attempt at solicitation made to this field agent may perhaps have been an attempt to gain an upper hand as regards his grip on the relationship encouraged by her superiors as a mean to ensure an alliance. More to follow. AASblaGMrlw."

She stared out through the window, trying to decide how to address the issues between she and Ahkmenrah, or how to explain herself to him, or to her superiors. It was all so exhausting. The clock read 7:43 am, and Sybil dragged on her cigarette unending as she undressed and pulled herself to bed. She threw the cigarette into the abandoned coffee cup to extinguish it. The miniscule hiss of steam assured her that she had hit her target before she fell in to bed.

The duvet pulled over her head, Sybil wondered what the point was of this. She had been used to secure alliances before. It was common, but to leave her alone entirely meant a rush to it. They must be desperate to have him fall for her, though sometimes a chaperone was a useful tool. Men liked things they couldn’t have.

Something was going on and she wanted to know what it was.

Sleep pulled at her, and she knew she should try for a few hours before her shift at the diner. There was no way to avoid it, but Sybil had been having such terrible dreams lately that she wanted to fight off sleep as long as she could.

xoxox

_The flat planes of the world stretched so far around her that it made her nauseous with it’s eternity. There was nothing but the fire that she knew burned under the earth. There was something else too, that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Slow steady vibrations like the subway under her feet. The slow rumbling grew in its intensity until it shook the sun from the sky._

_Her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness, and she stumbled slowly, trying to find her way._

_It was too hot_

_A little girl with a face that had once been hers stared at her. But it wasn’t her. The Girl with her face stared and her with black eyes and mumbled in a low voice to her, “The Red God will come. We need to be ready for him,” The Girl’s face dropped suddenly, as if she had thought Sybil was somebody else entirely. The black in her eyes spiraled into their pupils leaving them hazel,“Who are you?”_

_Sybil couldn’t find her voice to answer. Staring at the girl, she tried to understand what was happening. There was a strange sensation in her mouth as though someone had put a handful of uncooked beans in. When she opened her mouth she realized it was her teeth coming loose and falling out._

_The Girl with her face backed slowly away from her, clearly repulsed._

_Sybil tried to apologize and ask who she was supposed to be, or to say anything, but the steam of teeth kept spilling out of her. Cold panic spread through her as Sybil reached up and tried with her hands to stop the flow of teeth leaving her, but she couldn’t._

_It was useless._


	14. To Comfort or Destroy

Evelyn stared at the brief report on the desk of the small hotel room in Berlin. She had tracked her murderous, blood thirsty Cousin to the empty lot where their family’s town home had been demolished years ago. Sybil had been unaware of the relation between their murder investigation and Evelyn, and it had been better that way. Their family had been influential once, one of the few families with a biological bloodline rather than a contaminated one. They had been on of the oldest families in the time when people still feared things that didn’t face the light of day.

She stared at her Cousin, Nicolaus with a small furrow of her brow at the noise he made, somewhere between a hiss and a groan. The chain around his neck clinked lightly against the radiator.

“Evie,” he cleared his throat, “You should really let me go.”

She let loose a dry chuckle, “You were sloppy. People like you are the reason we go running into the shadows.” They had always kept the secret, and Evelyn still did. She kept her secret so fiercely that not even Sybil knew that she was a vampire.

“You’re pretending to be what they want now. You changed for them,” Nicolaus hissed at her.

“You look awful,” she returned, a blow she knew would land hard on him. Nico had always been a vain golden boy. His skin was grey now and she wondered if he had eaten something that disagreed with him. Bloodborne illnesses did affect their kind.

“And you look like a boy. Never left off mommy and daddy’s little habit?” His teeth clicked together now, a light tapping like irritating nails on a table to pass time, “Hm, Evert?”

She took a small vial from the desk. She wouldn’t tell them he had been caught yet. She wasn’t ready to turn him in. Not yet. She had questions that still needed to be answered.

xoxox

Sybil walked into the museum snapping her fingers gently over and over by her ears trying to get her words right as she went. She hated this. She hated not being in control of the flow of information. She had forgotten that this was a consequence of her plan.

Ahkmenrah was waiting for her, “Good evening, dear.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. It was a chilly kiss. It was a kiss that a couple married for decades with tons of infidelity would share.

His hand on her arm guided her to a gallery that had been emptied out of its occupants. The young woman did her best not to feel strange about his manners, but he was acting like he was the husband Sybil’s mother would have shoved her on.

“Talk,” he said, pacing and crossing his arms across his chest.

She looked at the stone floor, “Your father told you I am a whore, it would be more accurate to say that I am a reformed whore. Except I didn’t want to be a whore in the first place, so maybe it would all be the wrong way to describe really any part of this.”

“So why...?”

“I mean, no one really wants to be a whore. It isn’t as fun as it might be cracked up to be,” Sybil sat on the bench

“But you slept with people for money,” he said, trying to make it simple for himself to understand. He didn’t understand it. He understood the type of man that would hire a woman for sex, but not the type of woman that would do that.

The moments of silence as she strained against having to say the words that she hated as much as anything else, “My mother made me,” she said, simply, “We were poor, George didn’t leave enough when he would leave for jobs.”

Ahkmenrah stopped, “But you left home when you were a teenager,” he faltered again, “How old were you?” The question made his stomach hurt just to think about it.

She slumped down in the bench, her arms tightening against her chest. She looked away, realizing she was in the same position her body took when she had been interrogated by the police. Every time.

“Sybilla,” Ahkmenrah said, like a mom, “How old were you?”

“Young,” she said, “Young enough to affect my long term behavior as an adult. I don’t like talking about it.”

“I didn’t think-“

“It really doesn’t matter,” she said, “You wanted answers, and I really do not want to talk about it anymore.”

Ahkmenrah looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time, under all the smiles and the masks she wore. When she looked at him, he saw her for the first time as the scared, damaged, empty little girl. It genuinely scared him because he realized how little he actually knew her.

She took a deep breath and leaned over to take a manilla envelope from her bag, "This is as much of my file as I have access to. My arrest record is in there, and some psych evaluations they did at some point when I was a kid."

He took it gingerly and opened it, his eyes scanning over the list of offenses and the old fashioned mug shot of a fifteen year old, "What does possession mean?"

"When I left home I was on the street for a bit, but I went to live with one of my uncles. He and his friends had a hand in narcotics. I was a kid, but I thought I was an adult, and I wanted to prove I could earn a good living in what I thought was a smarter way than my mother," she said looking at him, "I made a lot of mistakes, and that's how I ended up working for the Bureau. It was that or a lengthy prison sentence," she ran a hand through her hair, clearing her throat, "Look I've made a lot of mistakes, but I'm trying to make up for them."

He looked at her, and realized what it was he was reading, and what she was telling him, "What was your uncle's name?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Was it the man my brother gave you to? In Washington?"

"No, that was.... I never met that man before."

"Who did you work for then?"

She looked away and took a deep breath, "he wasn't related to me by blood," she took another breath, "I lived with my uncle Meyer. He didn't know I was selling. He would have been pissed, honestly. Far as he knew all I did was balance the books sometimes for him. He wanted me to become an accountant. One of his friends asked if I wanted in, and I said yes, ok?"

"This makes you uncomfortable to talk about. Why?" he set the file aside and touched her hand, watching her.

She looked at him with shining eyes, "because I was a fucked up kid and someone was trying to help me. Meyer wanted me to get an education and make something of myself. I pulled me out of the gutter, and I betrayed him. I thought I was grown."

He looked at her and for the first time seemed to really see her, "I'm sorry."

Sybil leaned up to kiss him, knowing that he wanted a change in the conversation, “It’s really alright, ok?” she smiled, “Are you hungry?”

“I can always eat,” he smiled, rubbing his hands over her shoulders. It was meant to be comforting, but it simply revealed to Sybil more of his character, namely that he had no idea how to comfort a woman, especially having pressured one to share every one of her secrets.

She held his face in her hands gently, touching his skin gingerly. “It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

He looked at her small comforting smile and knew he should be doing more to comfort her. She wanted that, he was certain, but he couldn’t find the words or the gestures to make it clear that he felt for her in some way, that he wasn't judging her, because she had been right. He had never been poor, and had never had to make those choices. He had tried to be a good king and to find ways to make life easier for the people of his country, but he had never really under stood their struggle. Their pain had always seemed as though some sort of noble struggle. He realized now that he didn’t understand, but that he wanted to.

His father had turned her secret into something to shame her with. Instead of seeing the abuse as what it was, and her behavior as a symptom of trauma, he had forced them all to see it as a flaw in her character. He remembered her sitting in a daze when he was through with her, staring into the distance, and now he couldn’t think of how to touch her without thinking on that moment.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I care so very much for you, Billie.”

It was something.

She could work with that.

xoxox

“I do not understand what you are angry about,” Merenkahre said with the indifference of a man that had never really had to care about the feelings of others.

Shepseheret gritted her teeth at the tone of her husband’s voice. She went through these phases of irritation, “Your son takes a lover, not a wife, not a queen, and you were stupid in the way that you disposed of her. I expected better of you.”

She had never expected better. He had always been stupid. He had never seemed aware of the fact that she, not he, had kept their empire above the tide of change.

“He was told the truth.”

“Yes, but the wrong one, and in the wrong way. And now he will cling to her because you have made her a victim. Or did you forget that she was tragic?”

“She is a whore.”

“Because her mother made her one, or at least so she says. The story she can give him is a better one than yours. You should have just waited until she went on another mission. Then you could have claimed infidelity and betrayal,” she took another deep breath, trying to find the words to explain the foolishness, “Or else just waited until he was bored of her. He never loved anything for long.”

Merenkahre stared at her, “You would have just waited?”

“Long games are often the most successful.”

“What now?”

“Now? Nothing. We have to let it take its own course now,” Shepseheret said, facing him straight on, blocking him from moving, “You will smile, and you will befriend her and apologize for your actions.”

“I will not-“

“You will and you will embrace whatever part she has in our son’s life until we regain an upper hand. If she has a brain, she has turned his head with her personal tragedies and told him more than either of us can know or guess. We have no hand left to play.”

The old pharaoh opened his mouth to reply, but his queen cut him off again.

“That is why I am angry with you. Now excuse me, I have politics to attend to.” She turned with a swirling swish of golden silk, and paused, "And I will say this but once, I do not want any sort of implication again that you have tried to take any sort of advantage of her. Is that understood."

She didn't wait for his answer before walking away from her husband.


	15. When That Glow Goes

Ahkmenrah was so excited, bouncing in the seat in the darkening theatre. She hadn’t seen the young king so excited about anything in weeks. She liked him like this. He had watched a trailer for every movie showing at the Regency Cinema until he settled on some vague action movie with more special effects than talent, but he seemed excited about it anyhow.

“I like movies,” he said eagerly, leaning closer to her ear, his breath buzzing against her ear.

Her head leaned against his shoulder in the dark, and she slipped her hand into his.

Sybil and Ahkmenrah’s relationship had bloomed under the thinly hidden veil of their partnership, even though rumors persisted around them. Within the confines of the Museum, there was little that could be done to stop gossiping. It was like a small village or a closely-knit neighborhood. The persisting rumors about Sybil did not recoil from the concept of her moral character, but while she heard the rumors from Tilly, no one dared to speak about her to her face or to Ahkmenrah. The young Pharaoh knew so little about any outlying issues that he acted as though there couldn’t be any sort of trouble.

He heard Sybil’s concerns and her council publicly, and privately he found himself more and more enamored with her. Sybil, for her part, did her best to keep him at arm’s length, while keeping him nestled closely in her arms. When she looked up at him sometimes she felt a tugging in her chest that she did her best to discourage.

Most nights, they went nowhere, but rather found an abandoned room and lay together, or read or simply talked. When they talked, Sybil could see where she started to care too much for the young king. He was kind and interested in her and he did love her in some strange privileged sense of the word.

When they left the movie they grabbed dinner, and it had been nice, talking and laughing.

“Do you want to go dancing?” Sybil asked, leaving the small Chinese restaurant, her hand in his. The chilled wind picked up behind them and he braced in the second hand wool coat she had bought from a Thrift Store.

Ahkmenrah pulled her hand to the crook of his arm, as if using her to stabilize himself, “No. But it’s too early to go back. We can go to yours?”

“Mine?”

“Your apartment. I haven’t ever seen it.” He squeezed her hand, pulling her close, pecking at her forehead.

It wasn’t that she had wanted to keep some secret place for herself. That small room wasn’t hers, “I don’t want you to fall asleep or something there and the sun rises. It’s terribly risky.”

He stared at her, “I am not a child, am I?”

“No.”

“Then why are you treating me like one?”

She bit hard into a sigh. It had been such a nice evening too, “I just don’t think it’s wise.”

He looked away, dropping her hand. Sybil reached after him, “Darling, don’t be that way.”

“What way?” he asked, all but ignoring her. If she took him back now it wouldn’t solve anything, or calm him down.

She walked beside him in silence. This was why long-term engagements didn’t work. They got too complicated, “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

He nodded but didn’t say anything else. She could wait. She lit a cigarette and held it out to him. He took her cigarette between his fingers and took a drag. She slid an arm back around his, pressing closer against him.

She leaned her cheek against the cold of the coat she had gotten him. He smiled to himself, and slid an arm around her shoulders, tilted her face up to him, catching her lips.

She looked up at him, tugging his hand, "My flat is not very nice, and I would rather you not see it."

Ahkmenrah looked down at her, stroking her cheek as annoyed droves of people passed around them, "I understand. Though I want you to know it doesn't matter to me. I want to be able to be alone with you without having to worry about someone barging in on us. I want absolute privacy."

"I know," Sybil answered, "I know, and I'm sorry."

"I feel more like a pet than a lover," Ahkmenrah admitted, "I feel as though I am kept penned up while you can come and go as you please."

"I will try to make my apartment amiable," Sybil said after a moment, "Why didn't you tell me you felt that way?"

He shrugged, and gently guided her on, "I don't know. I know I shouldn't worry so much about what you will think if I share my thoughts with you," he pressed her hand.

She squeezed his arm gently, "You should tell me when things bother you, so I can help. It's the point of companionship isn't it?"

"I'm still not used to it, I suppose," he kissed the top of her head.

"Let's go home."

"We're heading the wrong way," he said slowly.

"My apartment is this way," she said quietly, leading him on.

xoxox

Sitting up from his arms, Sybil pushed a small window open and lit a cigarette. Things were going well, but the last few nights she had noticed more lulls in their conversation. The bitter chill from outside added to the cold already in the exhibit space. Dressed only in a thick, oversized sweater, she pondered what to do.

One could almost set a watch by the time it too for him to stand up and wrap his robes back around his body and go to her, taking a drag from her cigarette.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice muffled by cigarette smoke. She didn’t know what to say. Something was coming. The repeating dreams that were all a little different couldn’t be for nothing, but she didn’t know what to say to her superiors.

She studied his face, with a small easy smile. Her fingertips, stroked his cheek, “I love you.”

There was a small change in his face before he grinned. It had been a face of calculation as if he wanted to be sure she had said what he thought she had said. “I love you, too.”

His arms around her, pressing her into his chest let her think about what she would do the next time he started to get bored. She would have to write up that she should be removed soon. Distance worked better than constancy, though she ached every time she had to think about their relationship through the scope of her job.

His lips were gentle. He was always tender now, more so even than he had been before. He handled her the way a toddler would handle a snow-globe in Woolworth’s. Like she was something that begged to be touched, but only because it was dangerous. One wrong move and it would be broken glass everywhere and a scolding.

Sybil let her lover pull her back into his tender embrace. He was gentle at everything, pecking at her neck with slow lips that raised goosebumps on her arms. She pulled his hands against her skin under the sweater. Sybil squeezed his hand against her skin, trying to inspire rough passion in him. She wanted rough.

Ahkmenrah pulled back, “You do not have to be like that with me,” he said gently, smoothing a careful hand over her skin.

It was a smile that she gave him, but she gritted her teeth as she did. His tenderness bored her sometimes, but this was more important than herself. She moved the way she knew he wanted, and expected, but she let her mind wander.

xoxox

 

Brooklyn, New York City

January 1931

_Billie Marlow leaned forward against the wall around the bend in the small drug store just in sight behind the counter. She watched her uncle speak in low tones with the men that she vaguely recognized. The short one and the darker one didn’t seem to really see her in the shadow of the closed shop._

_Every now and then someone would come up to the door in complete disregard for the closed sign and the clearly turned off lights and yanked at the locked door._

_The slight figure of the girl trembled when the broad old man she called Uncle Michael walked back towards the counter. He wasn’t really her father’s brother, but he had done his best to look in on her and her siblings. Michael came around the counter, gestured a broad hand at her, telling her to come out and meet the men that would take her away. She couldn’t remember what she had done, but it had been bad enough that she knew better than to go home._

_She pulled her worn, Salvation Army Thrift Store coat closer around her. The scarf over her hair was home knit and made her look like an immigrant from an aid campaign for Christian Charity._

_“Mr. Lansky and Mr. Luciano, may I introduce my niece Sybilla.” His broad hand enveloped her slight shoulder, “Sybilla, these nice gentlemen are going to help you find a new place.” He fell into Russian in an attempt to comfort her as she inched back uncertainly, “Он будет в порядке. Они не плохие люди, птичка. [It’s going to be alright. They are not bad men, little bird.]”_

_The smaller of the two, Lansky, Billie guessed, extended his hand to her, “Madame.” He took a note of her gloves. They were white and finer than the rest of the clothes he could see on her. Looking down at the face, hidden under the shawl, he smiled. Her face was finely shaped, but the skin was pulled thin. Her eyes; strangely colored, were framed by thick lashes, and strong brows. She was not a fright to look at, but she didn’t look like the girls on billboards, and there was no similarity between her and her supposed Uncle._

_She mumbled a greeting between the two men shaking her hand._

_“They were known to your father,” Michael said as if this was an assurance._

_“Do you know where he is?” she asked, as if expecting disappointment._

_“I’m sorry to say we don’t,” Mr. Luciano said, “But I’m certain he will come back soon,” he forced his way through the lie._

_Sybilla could smell the dishonesty like too much aftershave. She looked back to the linoleum floor tiles, not wanting to face the uncertainty of this arrangement. Mr. Lansky’s hand took the place of Michael’s on her shoulder, guiding her out into the street and into the back of a car. She was a problem to be dealt with, and they seemed like the type of men that dealt with things._

xoxox

The young Pharaoh shuddered and pressed his face into the crook of Sybil’s neck. His body pressed down against hers, the weight of him flattening her uncomfortably against the cold wall. They hadn't made it to her bed. She could feel his heart racing and she wondered if he could feel how hers didn’t race the same.

The ceiling over his shoulder was tilted up in strips of wooden and drywall. She knew the words of this type of ceiling, but she couldn’t pull it to her mind in that moment. She could still feel him in her. He wouldn’t move for a while. He liked that since she had asked him to stay the first time.

He liked laying in silence, and it never occurred to him that the cold wall might be uncomfortable under her back. She didn’t hold it against him, not at all. He was a person, real and flawed. Her fingers curled against his hair and her lips pressed against his skin, stroking in gentle lines against his sweet shoulder.

There was a part of her that had been present during their lovemaking that found it exhilarating that while he was so constantly gentle, that he wanted her enough that he couldn't wait the few steps to her mattress. 

His breathing laughter finally broke the silence and cued her to smile up at him as if he were the light of her world. Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, as though she had never been with a man multiple times in one night. He looked so pleased with himself and with her. He whispered near her ear, and she shivered feeling his breath against her neck, "I love you, Sybil," he pressed his face into her hair, breathing in her smell, "I will always love you."

When she got home in the morning, Sybil called in sick to work. She pulled the covers over her head and cried.

xoxox

Sybil read a letter written in Spanish from a friend. Anne wrote of her troubles with her husband and there was something implied in the under current of the words that Sybil almost placed, but not quite. They would have to arrange a visit.

Tilly studied her face, “Bad news?”

“What?” Sybil looked up, “Oh, no, I mean… maybe…”

Ahkmenrah sat up from the documentary he was watching on the computer in the security office, “Maybe?” he had seemed to be trying to be more attentive in the last week.

“A friend of mine is having marital troubles,” she murmured, rereading the letter.

“Anyone I know?” Tilly asked, joking.

“Anne of Austria,” Sybil replied without thinking, “Queen of France.”

Tilly let out a laugh that sounded like uncertainly.

“Apparently her husband and the Cardinal have decided that with war looming with Spain it might be best if her ladies be properly French,” Sybil said, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose, “She’s lonely and wants me to visit…” Sybil thought a moment before staring back up at the ceiling, “Maybe it’s time for my husband to die…”

It was a few moments before Sybil realized that Tilly and Ahkmenrah were staring at her.

“That’s a weird thing to say, right?” Sybil looked at Ahkmenrah, “She thinks I moved back to Turkey and married a wealthy merchant tycoon type,” she lay back on the sofa, “She was one of my first cases,” she said staring at the ceiling.”

“What was it about?” Ahkmenrah asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Sybil admitted, “I think it was more training than anything else. Like they were seeing how well I could adapt to other times or situations or something.”

Ahkmenrah stood up and walked over to where she sat on the sofa. She let her move her feet out of his way before he sat.

“Do you have to go now?” he asked as she shifted to lean against him.

“No,” she said, “She’s been asking for me for a few months now. I have to write her back and tell her it isn’t a good time.”

He stroked his fingers over her hair, “What language is that?”

“Spanish.”

“Where do they speak that?” he asked.

“Spain… The Iberian Penninsula?”

“Next to Gaul,” he said slowly.

“Yeah and in Central and some parts South America,” she said quietly, “Different dialects and stuff…”

His hand kept smoothing over her hair gently. She looked over the letter again, “Her husband is apparently a real prick,” she murmured, “and arrogant on top of it. I do not point of fact want to have to deal with him,” she said gently, her voice murmuring wearily.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

 “A little.”

Tilly got up quietly and went out through the door, and Sybil felt a little guilty for not stopping her. She could feel sleep settling at the back of her eyes like sandpaper. It was getting to be too much, working then this. She was so tired.

Ahkmenrah nestled behind her, tenderly. He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over her, “Get some rest, darling,” he murmured, stroking over her hair again. The letter slid her hand to the floor. She fell asleep in his arms and didn’t feel stressed or out of place. It was just nice.


	16. Sisters

_The girl ran scampering through the alley, the slick pavement smacking under her combat boots. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know they were following her, and even if she did, Tabitha was certain she wouldn’t see them._

_Tabitha hadn’t slept in three days since the running had started._

_They had come with papers and files that made no sense and a story that sounded like the plot of a supernatural-themed television show that would run for years because of it’s mediocre writing. She had laughed when she had asked them to leave, in spite of the prickle of goose bumps rising over her skin and the pit forming in her stomach._

_When the other girl had showed up with the same story, she hesitated, but there was something so familiar about her. Magdalena seemed like an old friend and Tabby knew she could trust her._

_Tabby had been right about her, Lena was the only person she could trust now. She had always thought that she was crazy, but there were other people like her, special people._

_Lena was in the corner store   by the hot chocolate machine, like Tabby knew she would be. Tabby almost smiled at her friend, but there was something wrong. It was a deep, gut punching, instinctive sort of wrong. The sort of wrong that only happens when every person in a place is wearing black and looking away. It hit her all at once. The cashier was wearing a trench coat._

_Tally found that under the panic, she was wondering how much forethought went into an operation like this._

_“Isn’t it time you girls came home?” The agent asked. Her copper hair was cut short and her grey eyes were the coldest and stoniest Tabby had ever seen. “Don’t you think your sisters will be glad to see you both?”_

_“Sisters?” Tabby looked at Lena, confused. There was nothing remotely alike between the pair, but then…._

_“Come along ladies,” Evelyn said in a voice that sounded gentle, but there was something in it that Tabby knew was a threat. Even as she knew it she knew she would follow the agents out through the door. She didn’t understand the urge to walk with them. It comforted her a little that as she went so did Lena. She couldn’t control herself. She could feel the fear knotting in her stomach, but the two girls couldn’t stop walking, and they didn’t know why._

xoxox

Sybil knew she had written a report asking to be pulled, put some distance between her and her mark. She was getting irritable, and it was best to give it some room before she said or did the wrong thing, but she hadn’t expected Evelyn to show up in person to convince her otherwise. The older woman handed off her coat to Sybil to hang as if it was nothing whatever and Sybil would have thought it nothing if the last couple months of independence hadn’t given her a clearer idea of her own self worth.

She sucked a breath in through her teeth as she took Evelyn’s things to put down in the security office while Evelyn followed, looking around her as they went. “You’ve done rather well here.”

“Thank you,” Sybil said to the praise.

“Though time will only tell if any of your actions hold. Perhaps we should deputize the roly-poly.”

“The…?”

“The Security Woman. She’s rather round, isn’t she?”

Sybil did her absolute best not to rise to the bait of Evelyn’s attacks about Tilly’s personal appearance. She wasn’t sure if it was a test, but if it was, she would do better not to reply, “Sure. She’s worked rather hard actually and I think I might have been quite lost without her help.”

“Do you think she will find herself overworked without you?” Evelyn locked the door behind them, watching Sybil hang her coat.

“Ahkmenrah will help her.”

“You trust him?”

Sybil’s left shoulder bobbed, “Ahkmenrah sees the Museum as his kingdom, if Tilly reports to us we can maintain the illusion of his rule here while keeping our own control.”

Evelyn nodded slowly, “You know a better way to maintain control is by keeping you here.”

“I don’t know how long I can pretend.”

“You don’t like him?” Evelyn asked, confused, “I thought you found him attractive.”

“He isn’t a bad person, but keeping up the façade is exceptionally draining.”

“You know that if you are pulled out you would just be going on to another… façade.”

“I have some vacation time coming,” Sybil started before seeing Evelyn’s face, “this was my vacation.”

“You have had no strenuous work, unless you think that dating is strenuous,” Evelyn smirked, “Your reports are somewhat… informative. He doesn’t seem like a difficult mark. If anything he seems like a puppy.”

“Have you ever trained a puppy?”

Evelyn opened the briefcase on her lap, and extracted a stack of files, “This is the information you have been able to give us on your lover and everyone else here. In some cases you’ve done quite well, but there are some that think we might do better with more information.”

Sybil did her best not to show her irritation, “Then give me a break so I can come back with fresh eyes.”

“We need you in France,” Evelyn said changing the topic altogether, “Anne is having issues conceiving.”

“That sounds like a problem for a doctor, not for us.”

“It is our problem,” Evelyn said, “You have two options, leave and deal with that, or stay and gather further information.”

“It might have been easier if you had told me you wanted information, or like, what information you wanted.”

Evelyn’s face tensed at Sybil, “You’ve been working this same job for quite a while now. I thought perhaps you knew what your job was by now.”

Sybil nodded, “France then… I’ve been getting Anne’s letters. I can write to her and ask for the honor of a visit.”

Evelyn stood, “When you hear from her, we will go. Until then, do you best not to be incompetent. Make sure Ahkmenrah knows that he can write to you while you’re gone.”

It occurred to her that he might not want to, per their agreement that they would not be beholden to each other while they were not in the same place or time, but she got Evelyn her coat and walked her out.

xoxox

Ahkmenrah sat up in her bed and leaned back against the headboard, lighting a cigarette and breathed deeply, watching her. He saw a sliver of her body in the low yellow grey light from the moon and the street outside. His fingers reached out to touch her skin quietly. “Are you here?”

“Where else would I be?” she smiled at him, reaching up to take the cigarette from his hand.

It was nice to be here with her, in her home, though it was different than he had imagined it and now he could see why she wouldn’t want him here. The apartment was a small cramped room that smelled like soy sauce that had passed it’s expiration date and noodles. It was grey and dingy and her clothes were hanging on a rolling clothes rack. Her mattress sat on the floor and was covered with sheets that had the softness of wear. Everything seemed second hand.

Her personal situation had never occurred to Ahkmenrah. It had never come up, and he had never thought to ask her about money, or if she had any. Seeing her in the tiny, impoverished rooms made a strange sort of sense. It was the first time that he realized how common she was.

Shifting over on her side, her cheek pressed against his torso, her arm going around his middle. “I have to go away soon,” she mumbled, sleepily as he put his arm around her, and took another drag on her cigarette.

“Where are you going?” he asked, not too terribly upset about this. It had been hanging over them for weeks now that it would happen.

“France. The friend I was telling you about needs help.”

He nodded, “I have heard it is a nice place.”

“The Louvre Palace? Yes I imagine so,” she said quietly, her fingers tracing over his stomach.

“Have you been living without heat this whole time?” Ahkmenrah asked, rather fixated on the concept of her poorness.

“Yes,” she said, allowing him to change the subject.

“You should really get a space heater or something,” he said, taking another drag before stumping it out. His fingers stroked her hair, and pulled her bare body closer against him. He didn’t like the idea of her leaving, and he had told her it didn’t bother him if she took other lovers. He wouldn’t take those words back now, even though his personal opinion had changed. He patted her naked shoulder, assuring himself that she loved him and would stay loyal as long as it wasn’t required of her to do otherwise.

The young woman in his arms was his lover and no one else’s. He pressed his lips against her forehead. She smiled up at him and his heart jumped up into his throat. His fingers brushed her hair out of her eyes and kissed her again.

“I love you,” he whispered to her.

“I love you, too,” it upset her how easily the lie came to her once she realized it was a lie.


	17. Chapter 17

Ahkmenrah waited for letters from Sybil. The agreement between them that they should when apart, consider their affair on hold until they were reunited was all but forgotten. He knew it was ridiculous, and he did bite down on the thought, but it still occurred to him that he could say one thing, mean another, and she should know the difference.

Her first letter came weeks later, and she said that she was well and adjusting well. He smiled wide reading slowly over her typed words, and in his mind, he composed several replies before remembering he had no clue if the bizarre PO box address on the envelope would take her letters. He missed her dearly and he didn’t know how to cope with his new found celibacy. Not that he hadn’t been without companionship before, but he had become so comfortable with her by his side, and now she was gone.

He would write her as best as he could, long florid love letters so she would know that he missed her. Perhaps he would be able to convince her to save her heart for him. He wanted her back and for his wife, though the realization that her life would be a half of a life with him.

Perhaps there was some way he could achieve immortality and live to see the dawning day at once. Would she marry him? That was the question of it all. There were times when he could see her pulling away and he was left to wonder if her stories were entirely true. It was something his mother had mentioned.

“Her father never told me about any sort of abuse,” Shepseheret had said as if remembering something, “He told me of a doctor that wanted to study her for some eugenics study or other… he was rather adamant about it, actually.” She had caught sight of Ahkmenrah’s mystified face and immediately snapped a smile up, and patted his knee, “I’m sure it’s nothing dear. He must not have known.”

But she was a spy wasn’t she? It was all so much more confusing than it should have been. Why couldn’t these things be more simple?

He waited weeks on, but he didn’t receive another letter, and he took it to himself to send her one whether it got to her or not. He would write her one ever week at least.

_My dearest love, Sybil,_

_Is the Louvre as luxurious as we imagined in the warming embrace of our love?_

He groaned at that and crumbled the sheet of paper and throwing it away.

_Dear Billie,_

_The museum is not the same without you here. Lancelot has dedicated himself to be my personal escort and guard, claiming that his company will keep my spirits high until your return. I bear it as best I can but my god if I were not as annoyed by him as by a gnat buzzing unendingly by my ear. He means well and I do my best to be patient with him, but good gods above, I swear it would be better if you were here to share the ludicrous conversations he endeavors._

_I miss you, but I need you to do what’s best for you and your career. You’re special to me, though I don’t say it enough._

_And I know there are situations in which you must find yourself as part of your field of employment, I need you to know that I regret ever saying that these things wouldn’t bother me. They would. I love you and I need you to be mine alone. Is there anyway I can have you brought back to me?_

_I know I was a heel before you left, but I want you back._

_Sincerely,_

_Ahkmenrah._

He had so many questions but he couldn’t put them in a letter. Maybe she didn’t know that she had lied. Maybe she had put together fractured pieces of long lost memories. There were reactions that she had to things that couldn’t be faked. There was something there that he couldn’t place.

xoxox

Sybil waited for her name to be called. She sat on the bench with the other apprentices. She wondered if she would be promoted as they had promised her they would. She wondered if she would be released from the debriefing center at long last. They were acting as if she had been in a war zone, not a romantic mission.

There had to be something she wasn’t being told. There just had to be.

Her name was called and she stood, walking into the office. It was a dark, utilitarian space with a long table against the far wall ahead of her. The design and layout was rather like a court of law. Sybil walked down the aisle and stood at attention before the panel of committee members.

“At ease,” a man with thinning hair and dark skin said.

The committee members were dressed in dark blue robes. They each continued to read through files spread in front of them, making notes.

“State you name,” the man said, “for the record.”

“Apprentice Agent Sybilla Marlow.”

“You were trained to specialize in linguistics, is that right?” A middle aged woman with thick glasses asked.

“I grew up speaking multiple languages. When I was… recruited I was asked what I would like to do, that seemed to me like it would be a good pick.”

“And you began training as a translator?”

“Yes,” she wasn’t sure where this was going.

“You were at the training center for… four years before you were assigned a mentor?” A lean Asian man at the end of the table asked, “And then your mentor was an operational field agent, and you’ve been training in that vein?”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Sybil said.

“Can you expand on that statement?” The woman asked.

Sybil chewed her lip, regretting saying anything at all, “I was told that I would be promoted to junior agent if I managed to turn the Pharaoh Ahkmenrah to our side, to make him… pliable.”

The older man looked at her closely, “And you feel that you deserve that? Explain if you would, your relationship with your mentor.”

Sybil looked up over their heads, “She’s smart and works hard.”

“Her reports seem to imply that you are crucial to her operations. Does she often use you as a badger?”

A ‘badger’ was a term for a pretty young woman, used as a distraction, or even in some cases as bait, or in what Sybil had seen, a young woman offered up sexually to get closer to marks.

“On occasion,” Sybil replied.

“You seem to be doing quite a bit of the work, and we are completely willing to give you a promotion,” The middle-aged woman said, “With the stipulation that you continue your language studies. You will be going to France for an extended period of time. Your cover isn’t a new one for you, and it might be good for you to master as many languages as you can,” she hesitated, “If you accept this promotion, you will have your work load increased. Is that what you want?”

Sybil bit back to urge to point out that she was already working more than they realized, “I do.”

There was the bang of a rubber stamp on her file. She had never read her own file and now, it was so close that she could almost taste the truths in there. There would be all of her secrets, some she knew and some she didn’t.

There was another stamping sound on a file copy, and the order of promotion was held out to her by the older black man, “You’re going to need a new uniform.”

She bowed her head and backed out of the room.

The grey expanse of the lawn stretched out. She could see it through the window behind the committee. Something was coming, she could feel it, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.


End file.
